


Young Hollywood

by Ardatli



Category: New Avengers (Comics), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - House of M, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Billy makes dubious choices, But this is not news, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, In the sense that the Maximoff family dynamics and status are based on House of M rather than 616, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Social Media, Which makes this a Hollywood AU of a canon AU and that hurts my brain, because communication is hard when you can't trust anyone, but heavier on the fluff than on the angst, misunderstandings will abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 121,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10052561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardatli/pseuds/Ardatli
Summary: “Theo Altman,” Emma said smugly.Billy stared at the pictures in his hands. He tried to speak, couldn’t, then moistened his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue. “… he’s the jeans guy.”“Calvin’s current campaign model, yes. I had lunch with his agent last week.” Emma studied her nails critically, as though Billy wasn’t gaping at her and Tommy snickering from his place on the couch.“Altman wants to make the jump into film, you need a date to get rid of the ‘fake gay’ buzz. You take him to some parties, introduce him around to the people he needs to know, and make sure the paparazzi manage a few flattering shots of you staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. Then you have a sad breakup, we announce that you’d like the press to respect your privacy, and everything goes back to normal.” She waved airily. “Dead simple, even you could pull it off.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a short prompt for 'famous AU, secret dating,' and metamorphosed into a gargantuan beast of a thing. The fic is finished, clocks in at ~121,500 words, and will be posted one chapter a week until it's all up and I collapse in a heap of satisfied exhaustion. 
> 
> This fic was originally written in 2016, so a lot of the event dates and some of the references will be for last year, not this year. All names of real people, movies, studios or groups are used without permission, for the purposes of entertainment and/or satire. Events presented herein are fictional and not based on any real people, living or dead. etc etc. 
> 
> A lot of the story has been inspired by art from the ever-phenomenal Cris-art, [whose (NSFW) tumblr can be found here.](http://cris-art.tumblr.com/) All images are hers. 
> 
> To my readers, for feeding me prompts like this and commenting on early drafts, and many thanks to mytsunami for advice and corrections on Rroma culture and dialects; your help was invaluable.
> 
> Permission for remixes, fanart, and other derivative works is given freely, on condition that credit is given to the original work & you link me so I can swoon. <3 
> 
> (Right to the art is held by the artists - ask Cris first before using her images.)

_What’s new in show biz gossip?_

_The twin grandsons of mega-producer Erik Lehnsherr are in the news again. Tom’s been seen out and about with on-again-off-again girlfriend, real estate heiress Kate Bishop – how many bottles of Cristal does one table of friends need? -- while younger twin Will has been receiving all kinds of award nods for his turn as Thomas White in last year’s gay historical pic_ Vere Street _._

_Useful that he ‘came out’ just before being offered that role, isn’t it? He’d better be thanking grandpa’s vast publicity machine for that convenient announcement. Give it a week and the Lehnsherr camp will be announcing that Will’s actually a black transwoman, to complete the minority vote bingo card._

_We’ve entered the age of the publicity gay. It’s as much a ridiculous sham as you imagine, faithful listeners. Don’t get caught with a girl, Will, or you’ll blow that Oscar campaign wide open._

Emma muted her tablet with one perfectly-manicured finger, shutting off John Kesler’s shock-jock show before he could launch into another rant. “This is trouble. If it isn’t managed properly, the story will grow. We can’t afford to let these rumors get legs. William?” She glared across the wide open space of the penthouse’s living room. “Are you listening?”

He was, sort of. Billy folded his arms and stared out the large glass doors that led to the balcony, the sound of voices filtering in from the pool in the courtyard outside. It was another gorgeous afternoon in L.A., and he was stuck inside the condo he shared with his brother, being lectured by his handler for the fiftieth time this year.  If he started running now, could he make it out the door before Emma caught him and did something horrible involving her stiletto heels and his skull?

Tommy snorted from where he sprawled on the couch, his bleach-blond hair flopping over his forehead and his jeans artfully ripped enough to have cost a small fortune. He had his feet propped up on the cream leather, which would have earned him a lecture if Emma hadn’t been so focused on Billy. Not like Tommy would thank him for taking the heat this time. “Kesler’s full of shit; everybody knows it. What the hell is a ‘publicity gay’?”

“Full of shit or not, he has a fan base.” Emma crossed the room and swatted Tommy’s feet down on her way to stand by the cold fireplace. He landed them on the floor and propped his guitar on his knee, picking idly and erratically at the D-string.

Billy flopped down beside his brother and grimaced. “I don’t care what they say; I never have. I’m secure in who I am.” If he wasn’t, the acting business would have chewed him up and spat him out long before he and Tommy had walked into that first audition as kids. But they’d done it, proved themselves, signed their lives away before they had all their adult teeth.

The move had come right after that, their mother and Uncle Pete packing up their lives to come back to California. California, and Erik Lehnsherr: the man who seemed to own half of Hollywood, but who couldn’t seem to talk to his children – or his grandchildren – like they were human beings instead of assets.

None of that had bothered him when he was nine; it had all been part of some big adventure. At twenty-two, now that it was too late to walk away, it mattered a whole lot more.  

Emma tapped her nails against the tile mantelpiece over the fireplace in growing irritation. “The media care.”

“The gossip columns. They’re not exactly news,” Billy objected.

Tommy strummed a chord that somehow managed to sound sarcastic.

The disgusted noise that Emma made somehow managed to convey fourteen years of sublimely painful annoyance with the twins, all in one low ‘harumph.’ “Listen to your Auntie Emma, kiddies. William, stop sulking. It’s unattractive. You’ve got a head of steam for the upcoming campaign season, but this whole thing could poke a hole in everything you’ve been working for.”

“I don’t care!” Billy exploded in a burst of temper. “They wouldn’t be satisfied if I released a photo of me sucking _dick_. It would be tweets about photoshop jobs and prosthetics anyway, and TMZ would run commentary on my technique. The only way to win is not to play the stupid game in the first place.”   

“Too late for that, little bro.”

“You stay out of this, Thomas. William, do you actually have nudes or a sex tape floating around? Because that would certainly end the debate.” Emma gave him a narrow-eyed stare, one eyebrow raised. It took everything he had inside to stop from shrinking back into the cushions like he was a dumb, helpless little kid again. 

“No!” he said instead. “Look – you’re trying to help, I get that.” Billy pushed himself up off the couch and paced, running one hand through his dark brown hair to push it back off his forehead. “But what am I supposed to do? Start being a walking stereotype? Flick my wrists when I talk? Use more hair gel?”

She just rolled her eyes, which was somehow worse than being yelled at. “This whole thing could have been avoided if you’d just taken James out in public once in a while.”

“This again?” Tommy grumbled.

“Jimmy wasn’t into the Hollywood lifestyle; you know that. It’s the whole reason we broke up in the first place.” That, and his hatred of every city that wasn’t New York, and his fear of flying. But mostly the first thing. And Billy… hadn’t missed him nearly as much as he’d expected to.   

Emma frowned, a crease appearing between her eyebrows for a moment only before it vanished again. “I don’t suppose he’d be willing to come back for some red carpet walks.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

“Not doing it. Not a chance.”

She sighed, but not heavily, as though she’d been expecting that answer. Billy stopped moving, the hairs on the back of his neck starting to prickle and stand on end. Those pale blue eyes of hers had taken on the look of a hawk spotting prey, which meant that he’d just walked right into some snare that she’d been setting since she’d first walked in the door.

Emma smiled.

Tommy stopped picking at the guitar, letting silence fall.

“Then we’re going to have to go for the big one. Now remember, I’m doing this because I’m your manager, and because we’ve all worked too hard for this to let everyone down now.”

Tommy didn’t move, but everything about his body language went tense. He’d picked it up too, been on the receiving end of Emma Frost’s manipulations more than once before. “Don’t listen to her, Billy,” he said, deceptively casual in his voice. “You know she’s only doing this because it makes her look good to Grand-dad.

“‘Make something useful out of them,’” Tommy imitated their grandfather’s heavy, dignified intonations almost perfectly. “Wasn’t that the instruction, Ms. Frost? Take Erik Lehnsherr’s heirs and turn them into cash cows for the family business. We’ve made him millions already; what the hell more does he want from us?”

Where anyone else might have taken Tommy’s bait, Emma only glanced at him, her tight smile not touching her eyes. “An Oscar. More than one, ideally. Sit up straight, Thomas, or the next five bookings I make for you will be horror movies where you spend the entire shooting schedule inside a latex costume with no ventilation.”

Tommy went languid, draping himself more thoroughly across the couch and putting his feet back up. “I’ve been considering a career change, frankly. I’m thinking rock music.” Emma blinked, not reacting, and Tommy grinned, holding her gaze in a challenge of wills. “I even came up with a stage name.” He strummed the guitar in his lap in a violent single chord. “Presenting – drum roll please, Billy – Tommy **_MAX_**.” He paused, in the silence that followed the chord dying away. “For Maximoff, get it?”

“I got it. Sit down, little boy.”

It was easier by far for Billy to just ignore him. Was there even any point to arguing with Emma either? She was going to haul him into this by whatever means necessary, and if he knew what was going on, he had a better chance of keeping some measure of control. Right? Of course right.  “What’s the plan?” he asked, hating himself for the concession already.  

When she relaxed, just a hair, he knew that he’d definitely lost. “Nothing too strenuous. We set you up with someone appropriate, and make sure the right people get a few good pictures.”

“And you have someone in mind already, obviously.”

Her smile was pure satisfaction, as she drew a folder out of the white leather bag she carried over her arm. “Obviously. What kind of professional would I be if I came in here unprepared? You’re going to be glad that you agreed to this, William. It will make everything so much simpler.”

He took the photograph that she held out to him, bracing for the reveal. Who could she possibly have wrangled into this fraud?

 _Not Brandon Sharpe. Please don’t let it be Brandon Sharpe_.

Then Billy looked at the pictures. Like, _really_ looked, at both the black and white headshot and the ad spread that had to have been copied from a look book-

He couldn’t breathe. Just for a moment, but it was enough.

The blue-toned ad wasn’t new. He’d seen the posters everywhere across town, on bus shelters and billboards, and facing pages of magazines. The shirtless man with the perfect abs wasn’t looking at the camera. His head was turned away, fair hair tumbled across his face like he’d just had the best sex of his life. A curling grey tattoo snaked across one bare, muscled shoulder, and his thumbs were hooked into the undone waistband of his jeans, pulling them so low that the tight vee of muscle below his hips and entire expanse of gloriously lickable skin between his navel and his dick were exposed, vulnerable.

If Billy hadn’t figured out that he was gay somewhere around sixth grade, that ad campaign would have been a serious come-to-Jesus revelation. In a manner of speaking.

The headshot was a lot tamer, that same shaggy blond hair combed, this time, earrings curling around the edge of both ears. His lips were still gloriously full and pouty, the smile that tugged up one corner of his mouth almost shy.

“Theo Altman,” Emma said smugly.

Billy stared at the pictures in his hands. He tried to speak, couldn’t, then moistened his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue. “… he’s the jeans guy.”

“Calvin’s current campaign model, yes. I had lunch with his agent, David Alleyne, last week.” Emma studied her nails critically, as though Billy wasn’t gaping at her, and Tommy snickering from his place on the couch.

“Altman wants to make the jump into film, you need a date to get rid of the ‘fake gay’ buzz. You take him to some parties, introduce him around to the people he needs to know, and make sure the paparazzi manage a few flattering shots of you staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. Then you have a sad breakup, we announce that you’d like the press to respect your privacy, and everything goes back to normal.” She waved airily. “Dead simple, even you could pull it off.”

Billy shook his head, his heart pounding and his head racing at a million miles an hour. “Emma, that’s _the jeans guy._ You want _me_ to go out with the _Calvin jeans guy_. He’s so- so- ...” Billy trailed off, gesturing at The Abs helplessly. “His _pecs_ have pecs. Is he even _gay?_ ”

“Gay, bi, something of the sort. I didn’t test his Kinsey, if that’s what you’re asking. But David says he’s interested.”

“Yeah, sure… Does he know he’s being set up with _me?_ I’m not exactly on his level, here.” He gestured down his rangy frame. He wasn’t ugly, sure. He had a trainer, he worked out, could bench press a decent amount and had always had clear skin. With a decent stylist and a makeup guy to get rid of the bags under his eyes, he cleaned up okay. Confidence and self-respect were one thing. Comparing himself to a living example of human perfection was another.

Emma waved off the suggestion. “You have the connections, he has the body. It’s show business, darling. This is how everything works.” She packed her planner and pens away in her oversized handbag. “Ta, boys. William, you have reservations for two at the Roosevelt, ten tonight. Dress to be photographed, and don’t be more than slightly fashionably late.”    

“Yeah. Sure.”

The door closed behind Emma and they could hear her heels ticking down the outside hall toward the elevator. A discordant noise came from Tommy’s direction, a couple of guitar strings vibrating loudly when his hand moved away. “She has you by the pubes, dude.”

“Like you’re any better.” Billy growled at him. Tommy didn’t flinch. He’d ended up by the small table in the nook that passed for their dining room, and he dropped the photos on it with a long, last lingering look. There was no way reality would ever live up to the fantasy; he’d have to abandon _that_ idea, fast. “We should go back to New York,” Billy added gloomily, picturing every possible way Theo Altman could reject him on sight. “Waiting tables is sounding great right about now.”

Tommy set his guitar aside and stood, Billy’s identical clone except for the pale hair that he’d started bleaching the moment they’d been released from the House of Mouse’s many-tentacled hold. “Stop pre-freaking,” he advised, apparently serious for once. “It’s basically a rom-com gig, not a marriage proposal. Maybe he’ll be cool.”

Billy sank into the closest chair and flopped forward into the table, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Please. One look at me and it’ll be ‘thanks but no thanks.’ I film well, but... guys like _that_ don’t look at guys like me. They date other models. Or billionaires. And if it weren’t for Grand-dad’s connections there’s no way this guy would look at me, either.”

The soft, warm pressure of Tommy’s hand on his shoulder was a surprise and a comfort, and Billy cocked his head to lean his cheek against his brother’s arm. Just for a second. Then he sat up again and Tommy pulled away.  

“Come out to Low End with Kate and me tonight,” Tommy offered, changing the subject. “Noh’s spinning. We’ll do some pregaming and get you relaxed before the big moment.”

Billy shook his head, and Tommy frowned. “Forget it,” Billy replied. “Showing up in the tabloids tanked and dumped is the absolute last thing I need right now.”

“Whatever, dude. Your choice.” Tommy wandered off, picking up his guitar and taking the stairs to his rooms on the second floor two at a time. Billy sank down again, chin in his hands. He flipped the photos over to look at them one more time, Theo Altman’s bright, fair eyes drawing him in, and holding his stare.

Ten tonight. Six hours to get himself together, and figure out a look that wouldn’t look ridiculous in the same pictures as Apollo himself. “No problem,” Billy sighed, then let his head fall forward, until his forehead bumped gently against the table.

This was work. They’d go for a couple of dates, hold hands, maybe, and nothing else. Assuming Theo was even willing to go along with the farce. Billy might be short of breath, his heart racing and warmth pooling low in his spine at the idea of even being in the same room as this guy, but there was no way in hell that attraction would ever be returned.

Assuming he could remember that, and keep it professional, then there was a slim chance that Emma’s big faux-mance plan wouldn’t turn into a brutal tabloid train wreck.

* * *

“I cannot go out with Will Lehnsherr.” Teddy folded his arms in front of him and stared David down, an immovable object. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” his agent said, all cool as you please, “that there is no better and faster way to get you access to the big decision makers in this town than to go to the A-list parties. And other than hiring you out as a go-go boy, the best option is to get you in as someone’s date. Someone who can introduce you around to the right people.” David adjusted the sunglasses that always sat either on the bridge of his nose or the top of his head, an affectation that he’d had since long before Teddy had met him. “It’s all part of the three-year-plan.”

“But _Will Lehnsherr?_ ” Teddy asked, still trying to figure it all out in his head. “The guy is- he’s…” He groped for the right words to even begin to express what he felt. “He _agreed_ to this?”

“His manager did. I had a sit-down with Ms. Frost last week. Will needs a steady date to carry him through the awards season. He’s got a lot of buzz, and they’re expecting nominations for his last film. He wants you to walk the red carpet with him.” Laid out like that, in David’s confident way, it all made so much sense. And yet-

“The guy is practically royalty,” Teddy objected, shaking his head. “And more than that, David.” His voice changed to something more like pleading; begging David to understand. “He’s _amazing._ Did you even _see_ _Vere Street_? Half the audience was sobbing at the end, and the other half was all but giving a standing ovation. In a _movie theater._ He’s brilliant. And I get my picture taken in underwear.”

 _I get my picture taken in underwear._ And wasn’t that the saddest damn indictment of his career to date?

“How am I supposed to impress somebody like that?”

David’s arm around his shoulder was the seal of approval that Teddy needed, the comforting knowledge that he had at least one person who was really in his corner. “By being yourself.” David squeezed him around the neck once, then pulled quickly away. “Be charming, funny, smart.” He shrugged. “If all else fails, unbutton your shirt.” And he grinned, the corner of his mouth pulling up to show that he was kidding around.

“Hah, hah.” Teddy spun his chair around in the small office and straddled it, bracing his arms on the back and sitting his chin on top. “That’s what I’m trying to get away from, remember?”

“There’s nothing wrong with looking good,” David pointed out. “Especially in this business. And we’re past that first hurdle; getting your face out there and building up a nest egg. Next step, we put you in front of the power movers, and see what kinds of auditions pan out.”

“Third step, profit?” Teddy had to laugh, David’s devotion to organizing everything into lists notwithstanding. “Alright already. Sounds like a plan.”

“You mock, but we’ll see who’s laughing when you’re walking that red carpet on your own instead of as an arranged date.” David clasped Teddy’s hand, thumb on top, then on the side, then they bumped knuckles. Same as it ever was.

“Laughing all the way to the bank, you mean,” Teddy teased. “Mr. Ten-per-cent.”

David cleaned his glasses on his shirt, grinning. “Keep giving me grief and I’ll up my take to thirty.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Teddy poked at the magnet with the stack of metal shavings that sat on the edge of David’s desk, dragging a fingerful of the shavings up to create a teetering magnetic tower. “What do I say to him? ‘I’ve been watching you on tv since I was a kid, teach me your ways’? ‘Is it true that you made out with Dan Radcliffe at Sundance’? ‘I want to run away to Fiji and adopt orphans with you’?”

“I’d strongly suggest avoiding that last one, unless you want to see a Lehnsherr-shaped hole in the wall,” David advised, his smile smaller than it had been a moment ago. “I meant what I said, Teddy. Just be casually yourself. It’s a series of networking events, like any other professional meet and greet. You’ll just have a movie star on your arm while you do it.”

“You make it sound so normal.” Teddy poked at the metal shavings again, watched them teeter and start to curl over onto themselves, a tower in flux.

Will Lehnsherr. The face that had launched a thousand fantasies, most of them never to be repeated aloud. His dark brown eyes and piercing stare had caught Teddy’s imagination since the first time he’d seen the actor on a Teen Beat cover way back when. He’d been posing with his brother then, some kind of interview about the latest season of their sitcom, a pair of rangy, lanky boys with dark brown hair, golden skin and matching grins. But Will – he’d stood out. Something about his smile was different than his twin’s, beyond the obvious difference of Tom’s hard green eyes.

He’d bought the magazine, muttered something about a younger sister to the cashier and stuffed it into his backpack, red-faced. He’d read the entire interview front to back and over again twice – three times – before shoving it, crumpled and embarrassing, under his mattress. Will had answered questions about acting, about life in the arts, about the thrill of it all with such passion and razor-sharp wit that it captured Teddy’s adolescent heart immediately. His pulse had started racing at the thought that, just maybe, this was something he could do too.

He could be an actor, too. He could slide into these roles, be a hundred different people in a year, live a thousand lifetimes all crammed into one. He could be _anyone_ that way, instead of skinny, tiny little Teddy, too invisible to even be picked on.

He could become somebody new.

And if that path ever led him back, one day, to the boy whose chocolate-brown eyes and full pink lips had made so many unspoken promises… well. It would be a side benefit, nothing more.

Because Teddy never fell for the nice guys, or the gay ones.

Even now, even after that first rush of _oh MY GOD_ that had come when the press release about Will’s sexuality had first come out—when the things he’d imagined as an idiot adolescent seemed slightly, only slightly, more possible—even now, he had his doubts.

Because there were those rumors. That Will wasn’t gay at all. That it was some kind of stunt. That he’d never had a boyfriend, and hid his girlfriends from the public eye.

It made a certain kind of twisted sense.

Because why on earth would a guy like _him_ ever need to go hunting for a guy like _Teddy_ to be his contract-date? With his talent, his connections, his lean, taut beauty that suggested at passion held tightly in check beneath those collared white shirts-

Will Lehnsherr could easily have anyone he wanted.

There was no way he’d be asking for Teddy. Not unless he really did have something major that he wanted to hide. _And who better not to ask questions than some dumb fashion model_?

On the other hand, when would he ever get another chance to meet the man who had quite literally changed his life?

“Sure,” Teddy said aloud. David furrowed his brow, not having been party to the whirling express train of Teddy’s thoughts. “Fine. I’ll do it. At least tonight. But I reserve the right to back out if it’s weird.”

“Agreed,” David said, too quickly. “If you’re not one hundred percent comfortable, we pull the plug immediately.”

It didn’t make Teddy feel any better.

“So,” he asked, sitting up and squashing the metal shavings tower down into a small flat puck of steel. “What do you wear on a blind date with an A-lister?”

David studied him for a moment; the green t-shirt Teddy had worn from the gym, the falling-apart running shoes that were perfectly broken in, the khakis that were wearing through at the knees but were so comfortable he couldn’t bear to throw them out.

“Well,” he said after a minute. He turned a picture frame on his desk to face Teddy. His first ad for his first big campaign was in there, a ridiculous pouty black and white shot of a half-naked Teddy in skin-tight, nut-hugger denim, an equally half-naked girl (Sylvie, their first shoot of many) straddling his lap. It was sensual, he supposed, if you weren’t the one who had been forced to hold that pose and a thousand practically identical ones under the super-heated studio lights, a stranger’s breasts shoved into your throat. 

David just smiled. “There’s always jeans.”

* * *

His instructions had been to be ‘fashionably late,’ but Billy had always been more of an ‘ay _devla_ , that can’t possibly be the right time’ sort of guy. Which, as Grand-dad and Emma constantly reminded him, was one of the reasons he had People.

(Not People the magazine, but People-people. The ones who called him to get up and the one who had coffee waiting when he flopped incoherently into whatever car had been sent for him, and the ones who handed him his pages when he was slowly, painfully, finally, waking up in the makeup chair an hour after arriving on set.)

He didn’t have People™ shooing him around this time, though. Tommy had already bailed out to meet Kate, leaving Billy alone in the apartment to poke through his wardrobe in a desperate attempt to figure out something to wear.

He should have a stylist on call for times like this.

Except he sort of did, and right now she was out doing tequila shots with his twin brother.

Dammit.

**Billy: What the hell do I wear?**

She took a minute and a half to text him back.

**Kate: Date with Jeans Guy?**

**Billy: yeah.**

**Kate: fuckable or not fuckable?**

**Billy: blind date, work-related. Can we not?**

**Kate: So fuckable, then.**

**Billy: KATE**

**Kate: take a breather, hot stuff.**

**Kate: skinny jeans, charcoal. not black. Have you burned those ones yet? That blue shirt with the stars. Roll the sleeves, no tie, no undershirt. Do you have scruff?**

**Billy: I didn’t shave today, if that’s what you mean.**

**Kate: Keep the scruff, and the earring. Casual, not try-hard. You may have other plans later, be mysteriously cool.**

**Billy: There is not a single mysteriously cool bone in my body.**

**Kate: we’ll work on that.**

**Kate: take breath mints. And pics or it didn’t happen.**

Yeah, sure.

By the time he’d turned himself into something looking even remotely pulled-together, found a cab, and wandered in to the hotel lobby, he was already running late. The doorman waved him in on sight, and Billy paused at the end of the bar, scanning the room. His palms were sweating, which was not a good look. He scrubbed them off on his thighs without thinking, then caught himself and stopped.

There.

At one of the good tables by the wall, resolutely not watching the door.

Hot Jeans Guy.

 _His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed, on burnished hooves his warhorse trode…_ Tennyson’s Lancelot he wasn’t, but the shock of first impact fit.

Theo Altman’s golden-blond hair was shorter than in his pictures, brushed forward in an edgy, spiky sort of cut. He’d shaved, his jawline strong and fierce. He wore a green silk shirt open over a soft grey t-shirt that molded to his shoulders and chest. He had a beer in front of him already, and he twisted the glass back and forth a couple of degrees on the table as Billy watched. Nothing was visible from this angle from his waist down, but Billy’s greedy mind filled in the rest of the details well enough.

_His ads weren’t photoshopped. He actually is that gorgeous in person._

_Shit._

There was no way Billy was going to make it out of this with any kind of reputation for ‘cool’ intact, no matter what Kate tried to teach him.

“Mr. Lehnsherr? Can I get you a table?” One of the waitresses had made her way over, her question jolting Billy out of his practically slack-jawed staring. _Right. Be professional, be cool, work meeting. Just a networking thing._

“That’s fine, thank you. I see my party here already.” He smiled at her, the remote, ‘I’m a busy person, but I’m sure you’re lovely’ smile that Emma had trained into both twins since they were kids, and she smiled back before heading off.

_Show time._

He resisted the urge to put his hands into his pockets for something to do with them; flailing ungainly by his sides would have to do. _Channel someone cool. James Bond, maybe. Or James Dean._

He ended up beside the table before he’d made up his mind, so plain old Will Lehnsherr (the public face of Billy Maximoff) would have to do.

“Hey,” he said, for lack of anything better, and smiled, tentatively.

Theo Altman looked up. He blinked, once, then a slow, sweet, confident smile began to spread across his features. It was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, or rising on a lazy, warm summer dawn.

_He’s even more gorgeous up close._

His eyes were blue; but not just blue. Seriously blue, like the kind that came from contact lenses, or color correction in post-production. His features were chiseled, model-perfect, but there was something soft and wonderfully pouty about his lips.

_I wonder what he’d kiss like._

_Can you be sued for sexual harassment if you hit on your pretend-date?_

“Theo Altman?” Billy asked, like there was any doubt! But it was something to say, so that he didn’t stand there gaping. “Will Lehnsherr.” And he held out his hand, the other one slipping into his jeans pocket despite himself.

“I know,” Theo replied, and as if his _shoulders_ and his _eyes_ weren’t ridiculous enough, his voice was a low, warm tenor, like honey, or soft velvet. He grinned, confidence practically oozing off of him, standing to shake Billy’s hand. “That or your twin’s dyed his hair black again, but I think D-Listed would have been all over that one already. It’s good to meet you.”

And without a script, Billy had just run out of things to say. “Same,” he tried, and that got him another smile, so that had probably been okay. He grabbed the closest chair to him and sat down, and then… there he was. Across the table from the pinnacle of physical male perfection, while wearing a shirt with stars on it.

_My life is so weird._

Waitress, beer, small talk about traffic. Right. It _was_ going to be just like any other meet-and-greet, except that Theo wasn’t going to be an on-set co-star. If this went ahead, they were going to be seeing each other at least a couple of times a week for the next five months. Assuming that Billy could keep from completely disintegrating inside every time Theo flashed him a look from those devastating blue eyes.

“So, um,” he offered, once his drink had arrived and the waitress vanished behind the bar again. “Come here often?”

And to his surprise, because that was easily the corniest line he could ever have come up with, Theo _laughed_. “Not really, no. So this isn’t just super-weird for me, right?”

Billy shook his head. “No; I have to say, this is one of the most awkward auditions I’ve ever been on.”

He gulped at his beer for lack of anything better to do with his hands, and then Theo chuckled _again,_ just soft and low enough to be amazing, and to make Billy suck in breath. The air and the beer didn’t mix well, and in a second he was choking, coughing and his eyes watering. Theo leaned over without a word and thumped him on the back a couple of times, dislodging the blockage so Billy could swallow, breathe, and catch his breath.

“And they pay you the big bucks, hunh?” Theo asked dryly. Billy sank his head down to rest his forehead against the table.

“Oh my God.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Let me die.”

And the absolute absurdity of it all, the sheer fucking _ridiculousness_ of the entire scenario was brought home by the heat of Theo’s hand, still lingering on Billy’s upper back for a moment longer before he pulled it away.

Billy started laughing, forehead against the tabletop, and a moment later Theo was laughing too. And when he sat up, scooping his hair back from his forehead and shaking his head, Theo was leaning back in his seat and all the tension had drained from his shoulders and neck. “And there we go,” Billy said, waving one hand aimlessly in front of him. “The veneer of respectability is cracked.”

“Hi,” Theo said, grinning wide. “Glad to meet the real you.”

“Eh,” Billy shrugged. “What _is_ the real anyone, in this town? But please don’t sell that story to the papers,” he sighed. “It’s hard work pretending to have my act together.”

“You do it well,” Theo lifted his own glass in a salute. Those ridiculous soft lips pressed against the rim of his glass, and Billy absolutely refused to look at them. “And my lips are sealed.” He actually pretended to zip them closed, like a grade school kid, and mimed throwing away a key. “I’m sure I’ll do or say something equally dumb tonight that you can hold over my head as blackmail,” he offered, and that was pretty damn cool of him, overall.

“Hardly,” Billy scoffed. But things got a lot easier after that, and after he had about half his beer down.

“Emma tells me-” what a terrible way to open a conversation. He sounded like his grandfather. “That you’re looking for acting projects next.”

“Yeah,” Theo replied, and the easy confidence seemed to dim a little, and he studied the rim of his glass, his perfect lips hovering around a frown. “I’ve got a couple of months left on my contract with Calvin, and then ideally I’d like to have something lined up for when that’s done. I’d be happy with ‘thug 1’ on one of the CSIs or something, but David’s insistent that I shoot for movies first. He says it’s a lot easier to go from movies to TV than the reverse.”

“Depends, I guess,” Billy shrugged. “I did it, and that went okay.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re-” Theo trailed off, gesturing like he wanted to keep going, but didn’t have the words.

That was fine; Billy knew what they would be.

_You’re Erik Lehnsherr’s grandson. You could do whatever you wanted._

The everlasting power of nepotism. He didn’t want to hear it, though, so changing the subject sounded like a brilliant idea. “From this side, modeling sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” he offered instead. “Show up, strike a pose, call it a day. Why would you want to move into acting?”

He’d said something wrong, judging by the way Theo’s bright expression closed down, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what.

“It’s a bit more involved than that,” Theo said, but then he shrugged. “And partly because of that—no-one takes a brand face seriously. But modeling was never a career goal. It was a way to pay for college, and I want to start doing what I actually trained for while I still have some kind of name recognition.”

Billy blinked, his whole world view re-aligning around the new information. “Hang on; you went to college?” And Theo definitely looked offended at that. “I mean, not that I’m surprised. Just that I am surprised, because Emma didn’t mention it. And I tried not to be creepy and do the pre-date google thing.”

“I appreciate that. And yeah,” Theo said, ignoring the rest of Billy’s rambling and flailing. “I have a degree. I went to LaGuardia for high school, and I have a theater degree from NYU. The catalog shoots paid well and were easy enough to work around my class schedule.” He’d withdrawn again, the warmth fading from his voice, and Billy had to get that back; had to bring him back into the conversation, because this whole _world_ had just opened up, and he needed to find out more.

_Who are you really?_

“That’s awesome, and it makes sense,” he admitted. “And my big mouth to the contrary, I do know what it’s like to get pigeonholed. I was a sitcom kid for way too long, and it took forever to convince people that I could actually do dramatic parts without dumb mugging for the camera.”

“It’s like everyone looks at you, and assumes they know you because of this one thing that you did,” Theo said quietly, and the shame and guilt lanced through Billy’s gut so all-encompassingly that it had to be showing on his face.

“I’m an idiot,” he offered, and Theo ducked his head and grinned.

“Nah, you’re fine. I should have a thicker skin by now. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

He was forgiven! And so easily that he wanted to dance across the table and hug him, but that would probably be getting way too close.

“What about you?” Theo was asking, looking interested, and it was Billy’s turn to be embarrassed.

“I never did go to college,” he admitted, and Theo’s eyebrows went up in mild surprise. “Or high school, for that matter. I had on-set tutors, and never went further than my GED. I’ve always been working,” he finished, feeling the heat rising to color the tops of his cheekbones. “So you’re one-up on me there.”

“It’s not a competition,” Theo objected, and the relaxed smile he gave Billy then suggested, that maybe, he actually meant it.

L.A. was going to eat this perfect golden boy alive.

* * *

A few beers later, Teddy was feeling good. Despite initial awkwardness and their almost immediate fall into ‘but why would a _model_ want to _act_ ’, he was actually holding down a conversation with _Will Lehnsherr_. And he was so much cuter in real life than on the screen.

Movies and TV showed you one side of someone; even interviews were all taped and edited, questions prepared and vetted in advance. There was no way to know how someone looked when he was caught off guard, when he laughed unexpectedly, how his eyes lit up when someone said something that struck him as funny.

It made Teddy want to make him laugh, really laugh; throw back his head and lose those last few layers of caution entirely.

That wasn’t likely to happen. Despite the warm buzz creeping along his limbs, and the way Will leaned in on his arm as they talked, stabbing his finger into the table _right beside_ Teddy’s arm when he made an emphatic point—there was still that distance.

And the ever-looming knowledge that it wasn’t a real date. That Teddy had been selected as reasonable arm candy. That as long as he played his part, made it look like he was into Will (not hard, seriously), the best he could look forward to was a few new names in his contacts list, and a cordial “break-up” in the spring. Probably followed by Will forgetting his name.

He couldn’t afford to let himself fall. It would only hurt more, in the end.

“So I’ve got to choose, soon,” Will finished, draining the last of his drink and signaling the bartender for a refill. “Did you want another? Let me get you another one. You do one piece,” he kept talking, switching from the story to question and back again without batting an eye. “And suddenly everyone’s sending you minor variations on the same thing. I’m not going to do a remake of _Maurice_ just because I did a nineteenth-century script and someone thinks I look half-decent in a cravat.”

Teddy couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips, even as a fresh drink slid in at his elbow. “I dunno. The cravat looked pretty good,” he admitted incautiously.

“You saw the movie?” Will asked, color touching the tops of his cheekbones.

“Is there anyone in the states who didn’t?”

For some weird reason, he sunk his head in his hand. “Aw, man.”

“Why? You were amazing.” Teddy said it and he meant it, and the soft lingering look in Will’s eyes when he raised his head suddenly made him very glad that he’d admitted to it. “Is it not cool to admit that you’ve seen a colleague’s work?”

Will’s cheeks turned red, the flush extending down his neck. “No, it’s good, it’s fine. It’s maybe awkward knowing that you’ve seen my naked ass already, and in HD no less. But it always means a lot to hear the compliments. You’d think that would change, with time, but it never does.”

Teddy hadn’t been thinking about _that_ scene in particular, but now that Will had brought it up, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. “I think my ass is probably one of the only two parts of me I’ve never exposed in a shoot, so I do have some sympathy,” he joked, trying to push _the sex scene, (oh God, most of it discretely shot, but enough that he could imagine amazing things…)_ out of his head.

(‘ _Already’?_ )

“True.” But Will wouldn’t look Teddy in the eye; until he did, and his grin quirked up to the side, alive with mischief. “Though if anyone’s overexposed in his career, out of the two of us-”

“And I walked right into that one.”

“Oh yeah. They had one of your wall decals up for, like, a month around the corner from the Fox soundstage.”

Teddy groaned. “Which one?”

“The long one – leaning like this? Blue jeans, unbuttoned, with the-” Will’s gesture downward let him know exactly which of those stupid pictures he meant.

“Oh no.”

“ ** _Crotch_**. Right there. It’s rough to walk through a door there at seven in the morning.”

He was… teasing. He had to be. And his grin was that utterly infectious smirk that he and his brother were known for, curling up and promising a dimple that never quite materialized. “I’m so terribly sorry,” Teddy deadpanned. “It must have been traumatic for you.”

“I’m scarred for life.”

Teddy grinned and gulped the last of his third (fourth?) beer, the heat and buzz spreading down through his legs, his toes starting to tingle. “You should sue.” _I’m flirting with Will Lehnsherr. I’m out for drinks and I’m_ flirting _with Will Lehnsherr. How is this even my life?_

“I should. For emotional distress and alienation of affection,” Will replied, which made Teddy’s brow furrow.

“Come again?”

“That’s the problem,” Will cracked himself up. _He’s tipsy. He’s ridiculous. He’s adorable._

_I’m so screwed._

“Enough for you,” Teddy joked instead, playing off his momentary hesitation like it had never happened. “Or you’ll ruin that finely crafted reputation for nonchalance.”

Will sighed, sat back, and pushed his floppy hair out of his eyes again. “True. God knows Emma’s put enough work into that over the years. I’d hate to ruin it in one evening.”

Teddy signed a cross over his heart, meaning it more than it probably came across. “Your secret life as a goofball is safe with me.”

“A goofball?” Will placed a hand to his chest.

“Oh yeah. Unless you prefer ‘utter nerd.’”

He pretended to give it consideration for a minute, those rich, dark eyes staring up at the dimmed lamp on the wall. “Both?” he said, then seemed to wait for the natural response-

“Both.” Teddy replied, on the off chance-

“Both is good.”

“You are my sort of people,” Teddy declared solemnly, and Will tipped his glass to ring the edge against Teddy’s in a solemn sort of declaration.

“L’chaim.”

And when Teddy drank, this time, the fire in Will’s eyes burned into his skin, leaving only heat and promise behind.

* * *

The lights in the bar came on again too soon; there was no way it could be two in the morning already. Teddy blinked in surprise at the sudden shift in the intimate lighting, bright glare reflecting off the bar top and the table where he and Will had been chatting. “Shit.”

“Already?” Will frowned and pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket, checking the time. “Hunh. Look at that.” He furrowed his brow, seemed to be considering something, then tapped at the screen a handful of times and handed his phone over to Teddy. “Here,” he said unnecessarily. “And give me yours. I’ll put my number in. That is, if you want it.”

 _If I want it??_ Who the hell was he kidding? Teddy half-stood and fought to slide the phone out of the pocket of the tight jeans he’d worn, on the off chance that they’d ever stand up from the table. Will stopped talking.

By the time Teddy had it out and dropped back down into his seat, though, Will was sliding the phone across the table to him like nothing at all had happened, a red flush fading from the tops of his cheekbones. 

“Here,” Teddy said, trading phones. _Theo_ , Billy had already typed in to his contacts, and Teddy deleted it. _Teddy Altman,_ he re-entered, threw in his phone number and his email, for good measure. Will was still poking at his when Teddy slid the phone back across the table.

Will glanced at it, then back up, cocking his head. “Teddy?”

“I use ‘Theo’ for work; David says it’s more memorable. Less like a stuffed animal. But my friends call me Teddy.”

“Teddy,” Will repeated, like he was savoring it on his tongue. He looked back down at Teddy’s phone, pushed a bunch of buttons quickly, then handed it back. He stuck out his hand, like for a shake. “Then I’m Billy,” he offered. His hand was smooth-skinned and broad, his handshake firm, his fingers long and slim. Teddy shook it, trying to ignore the way his heart picked up that little extra bit of speed at the contact.

Not like it was going to be repeated. Or if it was, it would only ever be in public. Will – _Billy –_ might be awesome, but this wasn’t a real date. None of them would be.

He needed Teddy’s help, like Teddy needed his.

Teammates. That was all.

“So we’re going to go ahead with this?” Teddy asked quietly, and something like resignation fell over Billy’s face for a minute before it was replaced by the smooth publicity-face that he’d worn when he’d first walked in.

“Yeah.” Billy said after a moment that seemed to drag on forever. “It’s ridiculous, I know. But it could be helpful. At the very least, to get Emma off my back. And I’m happy to give you a hand, of course. With whatever I can.”

Teddy nodded, the cocktail napkin on the table trying to be far more interesting than looking into Billy’s eyes. He forced himself to keep engaging, not to look away. “David’s plans usually work well,” he confessed. “I have to assume he knows what he’s doing. And I enjoyed tonight,” he added on, as the bartender shot them a dark look. “But we should go, before she sends over a death squad.”

They didn’t talk much beyond settling the bill and holding doors as they left; only once they passed through the lobby of the hotel and were out in the street again did Teddy open his big mouth. They got a couple of double-takes as couples walked by, the streets full now that the bars were closing. Billy turned up the collar of his shirt and turned to mostly face the building. Teddy leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. “So,” he said, the noise of the street making this both more and less awkward at the same time. “Straight talk.”

Billy snickered.

“Hah, hah. So to speak. But it’s about that.” He took a breath. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything to anyone, and I won’t, no matter what the answer is. It’s safe with me. Do you have a girlfriend, like the tabloids say? And if so, does she know about this?”

“No.” Billy shook his head, and thankfully, didn’t look offended. “No girlfriend. I’m really, truly gay. Single, too,” he added. “So no-one’s going to come after you. I had a boyfriend for about four years, but he hated parties and publicity stuff. We hung out at home, mostly.” And Billy shrugged.  

“Where is he now?”

“Jim? He got a job offer in Dallas and took it. Last spring, so… eight months ago. We’d been mostly split up before, and that was the nail in the coffin. It’s for the best, honestly, except for the crap that the gossip columns make up.” He raised his head from his careful study of his shoes, and frowned like the question had never occurred to him. “What about you?”

Teddy shook his head, and a trick of the streetlights made it look as though Billy had suddenly perked up. “Single, and no skeletons in my closet. Not about that, anyway. So how does this work?”

Billy shrugged, lifting his hands helplessly. “I’ve never done this before. Do you wanna have dinner? Maybe Thursday? I know a couple of decent places where we’ll be seen-but-not-pestered.”

Dinner was a great idea; the reminder that they were doing this in order to be recognized together… less so. “Yeah,” Teddy said anyway. “I’d like that.”

They couldn’t share a cab, Billy heading in the opposite direction. But he rose up on his toes to close the couple of inches height difference between them, and he brushed his lips lightly against Teddy’s cheek.

It would have meant more if it hadn’t been done at a calculated angle to display the kiss to the cab driver, and the guy with a phone camera across the street. “See you Thursday,” Teddy said anyway, and waited until Billy was in the cab, and the cab was driving away, before he turned to start walking home.

His phone beeped at him before he got back to his apartment.

**Billy: So what _are_ your thoughts on yaoi?**

And that couldn’t possibly be meant for a photographer. Teddy paused, reading and rereading the single line of text, a grin spreading across his face.

**Teddy: Very long, much wow.**

He stuck his hands and his phone back in his pockets, and started to whistle softly to himself, as he continued on his way.

Maybe this would be okay after all.

* * *

**Blind item** : This male celeb’s been in the news for his relationships—or should we say lack of same? But a tipster saw the A-lister cuddling up to a billboard super-hottie last night at the Roosevelt. Could the star’s drought finally be over, or is this a hail-mary play by his clockwork-smooth PR machine? No lips locked that our gossiper could see, but they closed out the bar and headed off together. If there was ever a sandwich worth the carbs, that man-wich would be it.

 -

 _Bill Maximoff; leave a message._ **[beep]**

Well done, William. I’m booking time with you this afternoon to go over the action plan for the next few weeks.  

 -

 _You’ve reached the phone of Nate Richards, personal trainer. Appointment bookings or cancellations can be made through reception, at 323-555-9021. Anything else, leave a message at the tone._ **[beep]**

Nate? It’s Billy. Any chance you have an opening this afternoon? I need an excuse to be out of the apartment and off the grid from, oh, two to five. Give or take. Emma’s after me, and I need somewhere to hide.

**-**

**David: So? How’d it go?**

**Teddy: Honestly? Pretty good. He’s an awesome guy. Smart. Really funny. We had a good time. At least, I had a good time. I think he did.**

**Teddy: We’re having dinner on Thursday. That’s probably a good sign.**

**David: Cool.**

**David: Good that it wasn’t creepy or weird.**

**David: Because if you have second thoughts, you can let me know.**

**Teddy: Not so far. It’s gonna be fine. Fun, even!**

**David: Be careful. Remember, this is only professional on his part.**

**Teddy: I know.**

**David: I don’t want you getting hurt.**

**Teddy: I won’t forget. Pinkie swear, and cross my heart.**

**David: Someone has replaced Alleyne’s star client with a nine year old girl. Let’s see if he notices.**

**Teddy: Bite me.**

-

 _Bill Maximoff; leave a message._ **[beep]**

Hey, Billy; it’s Nate. I’ve got clients this afternoon, but come on down to the Boxing Gym and we can hang out in between. Ever think of trying Zumba?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake dating isn't as easy as it looks on paper, and battle plans never survive first contact with the enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [With fabulous (semi-sfw) fanart by Cris!](http://cris-art.tumblr.com/post/142640062473/billy-and-teddy-from-the-fic-young-hollywood)

“But you’re not going to tell me who this guy is.”

“It’s new, alright?” Teddy grunted as he pulled the dumbbells up to his shoulders, his feet pressing down into the floor on either side of the narrow weight bench, his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.

He should probably be telling Nate about Billy, and by name. That was the point, right? Be seen together, be known to be dating, be public about it until next spring. Except that Nate knew _Teddy_ , and if Teddy suddenly turned into a gushy kiss-and-tell kind of guy, Nate would know that something was up.

So … be natural, then, and act like he would if he and Billy had actually gone on a single, real blind date.

“He’s really cute,” Teddy compromised with himself, letting the dumbbells back down again slowly. “ _Really_ cute. Smart. Funny.”

“Nine,” Nate prompted, and Teddy started to pull the weights up again. “And _Alleyne_ set you up?”

“Yeah.”

“Hunh,” Nate said, which was weird. Like he was surprised. Maybe that was getting too close to calling this a business deal? Maybe Nate suspected something was off.

“I can get dates on my own,” Teddy said. “Maybe he thought we would get along.”

“Could be. You’re wimping out on me, Teddy. If you can talk this much, you’re not working hard enough.”

“We’re going out for dinner on Thursday.”

“Ten- you know Teddy, I don’t think you’re really trying. Get them up there.”

The sweat trickled down the back of Teddy’s neck and stuck him to the vinyl of the weight bench he was lying on. Sitting up was going to be gross. If he could ever finish the set. Maybe he was dead and this was purgatory, condemned to forever struggle through bicep curls, dumbbells in his hands, Nate bossing him around from the foot of the bench.

He pulled, slowly, the weights in his hands conspiring with gravity to haul him back down. His arms burned, his inner elbows damp, his hair sticking to his forehead. “This sucks,” he announced to the gym at large. 

Nate just grimaced, like his form was all wrong. “One more,” he ordered. “You can make it to twelve.”

“I’m gonna make it to twelve,” Teddy repeated with a grunt, letting the weights down faster than he should. Nate glared at him and tapped his elbow sharply as a reminder. “And then I’m going to beat your ass with these stupid weights.”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Nate laughed. “It’ll be good for your cardio. Twelve.”

“Slave driver.”

“Weakling.”

Teddy sighed deeply. “Twelve.”

That was sort of the whole point of paying a personal trainer, even though he groused and complained. Nate was the reason Teddy kept booking jobs, turning the sort-of cut high school basketball player into a lean-mean-selling-his-body-machine. And like David kept saying, superhero movies were a big deal right now. _And_ if he ever wanted a chance at anything, even an extra role, he had to be hotter-better-fitter than the thousands of other guys vying for the same ten jobs.

Which meant doing the last god-damn bicep curl, even when what he most wanted to do was make Nate eat the stupid dumbbells, one after the other.

He pulled- “Slower!” Nate barked. And slowed down, every muscle fiber screaming. “Come on, Teddy. Show me that you care.”

Teddy stared up at the white-painted gym ceiling and channeled everything he had into this last, perfect rep.

“Twelve.”

But Nate didn’t answer. And when Teddy set the dumbbells down and sat up, peeling off the bench like a soggy post-it note, Nate was already halfway across the gym, heading for the hallway door.

  _The hell?_

He grabbed for his towel, hanging off the chair beside the bench, and scrubbed at his damp hair and the back of his neck. Nate was talking enthusiastically to someone who had just walked in, half-hidden from Teddy behind some guy using the leg machine.

They emerged from the corner a moment later, Nate’s arm draped easily over Billy Lehnsherr’s shoulder. “Come on,” he was saying easily, as though they’d been fast friends forever. “I’m with a client right now but you can hang out until we’re done, or jump on one of the machines.”

Billy was even more spectacular in the daylight, in workout clothes, his hair a rumpled mess. He had sunglasses perched on the top of his head, like he’d only just shoved them up there, sweatpants that hugged the curves and angles of his hips and legs and a sleek running shirt that showed off his lean, muscled arms to advantage. He looked like he was walking onto a set to play a stressed-out romantic hero, the line of dark stubble along his jaw perfectly rakish.

And here Teddy was, sweating like a farmer in a ratty old NYU t-shirt and shorts, his face red. He probably smelled like a gym sock.

_Fuck._

He stood up as Nate brought Billy over, wiping his palms on the towel in his hands and tossing it around his neck so that he wouldn’t do something stupid, like drop it. Or choke himself out so that he could avoid a conversation.

“Teddy – Theo, I should say – meet Will Lehnsherr.” Nate introduced them, letting go of Billy and waving his hand back and forth between the two men.  

“Hey,” Teddy said, and this close, Billy’s dark brown eyes were the only things he could see. It had been dark in the bar last night; he hadn’t noticed the faint golden flecks that glimmered in their depths, the warmth that he could roll himself up in.

“Hey,” Billy said back, one corner of his mouth twitching up into an almost-awkward, cock-eyed grin that was so endearing it made Teddy’s heart hurt.

_Double fuck. So fucked. Fuck, fucker, fucked._

“You know each other already?” Nate asked, surprise evident in his voice. Teddy broke the look first, and nodded.

“We, uh. We’ve met.”

Nate paused for a beat. Then, “ohhh. _This_ is the guy.”

Billy’s brow furrowed. “The guy?”

“Drinks last night?”

Teddy’s face went hot. Hotter than it had been. Billy flashed a look of surprise at him, went blank for a moment, then smiled. It was a meet-the-press smile, though, not the real one Teddy had seen glimmers of the night before. “You better have said nice things,” was all he said.

“Oh. Yes, definitely,” Teddy managed, and got his own grin back. Then, because conversation needed to happen, he kept talking. “I didn’t know you worked out here.”

“I don’t,” Billy started, then glanced guiltily at Nate, seemed to stumble over his words, and stammered a bit. “That is, I don’t normally. But Nate’s my trainer. He usually comes over to the gym in my building, but I needed to get out of the house today. If I’d known you would be here I wouldn’t have- That is. I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout.”

Was it wrong to find it so endearing that he’d managed to throw Billy off-balance?

_Maybe it’s because I smell like a sweaty goat._

Or because Teddy was making him uncomfortable during his down-time. _This is only professional on his part._ David’s text flashed behind his eyes again. Teddy let the worry go, grabbed at the towel around his neck and grinned. “Not at all. I was just about done with my torture session for the day. He’s all yours.”

“Sure,” Billy nodded. “Thanks.”

“We’re not actually finished,” Nate argued, frowning. “You’re just trying to get out of doing any more work.”

“I won’t leave the gym yet,” Teddy promised. “Right hand to God. I’ll go upstairs and see if Eli’s around. He promised me another couple of rounds in the ring.”

“Boxing?” Billy asked, and his gaze seemed to be directed at Teddy’s shoulders, not his face.

Teddy grabbed the bottle of spray cleaner and spritzed down the bench, for lack of anything else easy to do with his hands. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s a good way to work off steam. Eli just has to promise not to hit me in the face before a shoot.”

Billy laugh-snorted, then flushed red. Nate just shook his head. “I’ll see you Wednesday, Teddy. Full sets next time, no getting out of it.”

“Promise.” Teddy rumpled his own hair, still damp from the workout. Then, just in case, and because there were a few guys shooting them curious looks from the other machines, “we’re still on for Thursday?” he asked Billy.

Who nodded. “Yes, definitely. Looking forward to it.”

“Okay!”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you, then.”

“You bet.”

“ARGH.” Nate interrupted, pointing toward the pile of mats in the corner. “You two are making _me_ nauseated. Bill, go grab a mat. We’ll start with crunches. Teddy, go hit Eli for a while and stop making heart-eyes at my clients.”

Teddy ducked his head, turned and headed for the door, fighting back the grin that was spreading across his face. By the time he was jogging up the stairs, his heart had stopped doing somersaults in his chest again.

Will was acting. That was what actors did. And Will was a very good one, everyone said that. He was picking up on Teddy’s cues and following along, because he thought _Teddy_ was acting as well. Which is what he was going to have to do. Be attentive to Will’s cues (not Billy, Will. They were in a business arrangement, nothing more), pick up on said cues and when in public, pretend to be falling in love.

Sure. No problem.

* * *

 _Was it a setup?_ That had been the first thing to run through Billy’s head when he’d seen Teddy on the weight bench. The second (third and fourth) had been some brain-melting ideas about Teddy’s tight, muscled thighs, and how easy it would have been to slide his hand up the leg of his loose basketball shorts. Because he was a pervert, and he hadn’t had a real date in almost a year. Last night at the bar certainly didn’t count.

(And he wasn’t going to get the chance to ask anyone out for another five months at least, not until this contract was over, so he needed to channel all that free-roaming energy into his workouts, stat.)

“I didn’t realize you knew Teddy,” Nate said conversationally, as he dialed up a program for Billy on the elliptical machine.

“Yeah.” _Now what? Lie to Nate?_ He’d been a good friend since the day Emma and Grandpa had delivered a skinny, snide Billy to his gym, signing away Billy’s free time in pursuit of some kind of muscle definition. “Emma knows his agent,” Billy offered up as an answer that wasn’t technically a lie. “And got him to introduce us. It was hard to miss those billboards.”

“Is that your type?” Nate joked, though his voice sounded odd. “Blond and ripped?”

Billy stepped onto the machine. Whatever was up Nate’s butt today would pass; it always did. “He’s good looking enough to be anyone’s type.”

_Ain’t that the truth._

It was harder to get the machine going than it usually was; that or he was more hung-over than he’d realized. Billy pushed against the resistance until he hit a rhythm, forcing his tired muscles through the familiar motions. “How long have you known him?”

“Year and a half, give or take.” Nate watched the numbers click up on the display, not meeting Billy’s eyes. “He started coming to the gym right after he moved to L.A. You’re really interested in him?”

 _What would Tommy do in this situation? He’d play it cool._ “We’ll see.” Billy’s answer was non-committal. “Has he dated anyone since he got here? Do you know any of his exes?” he asked, like it was a totally innocent and casual question.

From the look on Nate’s face, he hadn’t entirely managed it. “Not really. If you’re talking, you’re not working hard enough.” Nate pushed a button and the resistance changed again, until Billy was struggling through every step and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

Conversation over. Fine. He’d find out more about Teddy Altman the hard way.

* * *

The workout with Nate was a good way to clear Billy’s head, at least once he’d stopped thinking about Teddy’s thighs in his loose gym shorts, or the way he’d grinned, just once, before heading off to box with the mysterious ‘Eli’ on the upper floor. It was a good thing that they were going to get along so well, when it came down to it, because it would take a much better actor than Billy to pretend to be in love with someone he couldn’t stand. At least off-screen.

It was October now, the air developing a little nip to it that was as close as California ever got to actual winter. The Globes were in January, the Oscars end of February, and at that point whatever happened, happened. By the middle of March he and Teddy could say their goodbyes, and go back to their regular lives.

Billy slouched through the door to the locker room, letting the door swing shut behind him. The door thumped closed, the sound echoing off the tile in the mostly-empty space. A shower was running somewhere in the back, a couple of older men chatting quietly about their golf game while they changed into workout gear. They ignored him as he spun the combination wheel on his lock.

He was sweaty from head to toe, his shoulders and calves sore. It was a good kind of sore, though; the kind that could be scrubbed away in a shower, or soaked off in a hot tub.

Speaking of showers—the sound of running water had stopped, and a figure appeared around the corner, heading for another bank of lockers.

Billy’s brain derailed.

Teddy Altman was walking across the locker room, wearing nothing but a white gym towel slung low around his perfect, bitable hips. His abs rippled under his skin, the vee-shape lines of his muscles forming an arrow that vanished underneath the treacherous edge of the terrycloth. His wet hair clung to the back of his neck and his forehead in dark golden ringlets, and beads of water dripped down to roll slowly along the broad expanse of his shoulders.

 _He does have a tattoo_. Two lines of fine black script that Billy couldn’t read from this distance curved over Teddy’s left hip, low enough that they’d normally be covered by his clothes.

Teddy looked up, and met Billy’s eyes.

_Oh shit._

Billy whipped back around to face his own locker. Caught staring. Naturally. Now Teddy would call David and David would call Emma, and the whole thing would get called _off_ on account of Billy Maximoff being a gigantic creeper.

He yanked on the hem of his shirt, hauling it up and over his head. The shirt that Kate had declared the height of work-out fashion, made from some kind of wicking polymer that Billy couldn’t even pronounce, got stuck on his elbows and refused to go higher.

He squirmed, trying to grab the hem again, his arms trapped up over his head. The damp fabric stretched and bunched around his shoulders, but didn’t move.

Billy folded over and tried to shimmy his shoulders out of the spandex boa constrictor that had him prisoner. No dice. It rode up higher on the back of his neck, but that was it.

He was going to die with his head stuck inside a shitty purple athletic shirt.

“Need help with that?” a familiar voice sounded from somewhere to his left. Billy turned, raising his arms to turn the shirt into a tube, or sort of forward-facing periscope. He saw chest, and a blue denim waistband buttoned over a stomach that he badly wanted to lick. That view was replaced a moment later by Teddy’s warm blue eyes, as he bent down to look inside the tunnel of fabric wrapped around Billy’s face and arms.

“Oh _yeah_ ,” Billy said, his voice thick with scorn and his brain filled with humiliation. “Think I might make this a new fashion.”

“Oh, well then—if you’re all right…” Teddy moved out of Billy’s limited line of sight, laughter in his voice.

Oh _fine._ May as well make his embarrassment complete. “Little help?”

Strong hands slid down past his, and a moment later Teddy tugged the shirt off, freeing Billy’s head from its trap.

“You sure you’re old enough to be dressing yourself?” Teddy teased, still shirtless and still unfair.

Billy smirked. “I have _people_ to do that sort of thing _for_ me.”

“Oh yes, of course. How silly of me.” Teddy handed Billy’s shirt back to him, damp against Billy’s hands. Teddy’s fingers brushed his, just for a moment, but enough for an electric spark to flit between them.

Billy stood there for a moment, his shirt in his hands, as Teddy sauntered, catlike, back across the room to his own locker. Was it his imagination, or was there more of a strut in Teddy’s steps now? _Was he flattered to catch me staring?_

 _Forget it._ Whatever that reaction was about, Teddy was paying attention to getting dressed again, and not to the rumpled, vaguely distracted mess standing in front of Billy’s locker.

_Just get undressed, get washed, and ignore it._

* * *

_He’s a dork._

Who knew? It made him a hell of a lot more approachable, if nothing else. Teddy breathed a soft sigh of relief into the stomach that had been tangled into tight knots since Billy had walked into the gym. Even letting Eli use him as a punching bag for a while hadn’t done enough to get Teddy’s head screwed back on properly. Weirdly enough, flustering Billy again had done more to get him back on his feet than anything else.

It was another flash of the normal, everyday guy he’d seen hints of at drinks the night before, the little bits and pieces that didn’t feel like an act.

Long enough in L.A., Teddy supposed, and he’d end up with a false face as well. Even more of one than he had to slip behind when he was at a shoot, where photographers only seemed to see Teddy as yet another prop; a piece of half-naked set dressing.

That’s why this had to work out. He had to play the game just long enough to get his foot in the door. And maybe, if he kept his cool and played his cards right, he and Billy could still somehow be friends.

It was a nice thought, and one that kept Teddy occupied while he scrubbed his hair with his towel and hauled on clothes – jeans not nearly as nice as the ones he’d chosen for the fake date, and… _shit_. He’d grabbed the first clean t-shirt on the top of the pile in the basket. There was nothing wrong with it _per se_ , but it wasn’t the one he’d have chosen if he’d had any idea that he was going to run into Billy along the way.

The grey shirt slid over his head easily, the old, worn and washed-soft cotton sticking to the damp skin of his shoulders and back. The picture on the front had faded from washing and age, but the blue-white-red concentric circles were still immediately identifiable.

_At least it’s not a Firefly shirt. Far too nerdy to explain away smoothly._

“Seriously?”

Teddy turned, halfway through buckling on the leather cuff bracelet that he’d ‘liberated’ from his very first shoot—and still wore, for luck. Billy stood behind him, looking like a million bucks (possibly literally), even wet from ducking under the shower. He was already dressed, in a sleek shirt and artfully distressed jeans, dark sunglasses pushed up on top of his head. His dark hair rumpled under the frame, sticking up in random directions.

“Say what?” he asked, as though he didn’t really know what Billy was talking about.

Billy made a wave sort of gesture toward Teddy’s shirt, and cocked his head. “Captain America?” he asked. But the look on his face wasn’t scorn, or even confusion. It looked more like… curiosity. Maybe even a flare of interest.

Teddy took the chance.

“The world could use a little more truth and justice in booty shorts.”

Billy’s eyes flicked downward so quickly that Teddy could easily have imagined the motion. But then he nodded slowly, and that flash of an almost-real grin lit up his face again. “I should have known you’d go for the four-color hero. Superman over Batman too, right?”

“I always figured Batman for the top,” Teddy said, keeping a straight face just long enough to see the tops of Billy’s (high, perfectly arced) cheekbones start to flush. “I dunno,” he kept talking after a second. “I was never really into Superman. He started out powerful. Cap’s a little guy who made good. And DC just sucks in general.”

“Blasphemy!” Billy retorted. “Granted I haven’t read much in the last few years – no time – but the Batman books are solid.”

“Ah,” Teddy nodded sagely. “Then you’ve missed the New 52 entirely. I hate to break it to you, dude-”

“Whatever you’re about to say, I counter it with ‘Civil War.’”

“Grant Morrisson on anything.”

“One More Day.”

“Touché. I thought you said you haven’t been reading anything?”

Billy shrugged. “Not lately, that’s all. I used to follow a lot of books, but my schedule’s been ridiculous and at some point I lost track of everything.” 

It was a split-second decision, and maybe one he’d regret later, but the words were coming out of Teddy’s mouth before he stopped to think them over. “I was going to go down to the shop and get my pulls today. I didn’t get there last week. Wanna come?”

Maybe that wasn’t part of the plan. They already had a date for Thursday; would being seen together throw off whatever schedule he and his manager had undoubtedly worked out for maximum media impact?

Would Billy want to be seen out with Teddy like this? Teddy was dressed for hanging out around town, not to be photographed.

But Billy was nodding, and all of Teddy’s worries flew out the window. “… yeah, actually. That would be good. I’d like that.”

“Cool.” What else could he say? “Just, uh. Let me lock up and get my shoes on. Do you have to be anywhere later?”

“Nope,” Billy said, popping his lips a little on the P. Then he grinned. “I’m avoiding home at the moment, and I need at least another hour before the coast is clear.”

“Your brother?”

“Worse. My manager.”

“Ooh. I’ve heard rumors.” Teddy sat on the bench that ran down the middle of the lockers and shoved his foot into his shoe. “Is it true that Ms. Frost eats small children for breakfast?”

“That would get her hands dirty.” Billy let the beat rest just for a moment, then, “she feeds them to her pet boa constrictor.”

“Nice.” Teddy snorted, hauling on his other shoe. “In that case, I’ll gladly keep you busy. In the name of saving you from hungry snakes and all.”

Billy grinned, leaning against the wall and watching Teddy finish dressing. His deep brown eyes sparkled with a vibrant light, everything about him electric. “My hero,” was all he said, but Teddy grinned back, satisfied.

* * *

 

Billy’s newly buoyant mood deflated like a punctured balloon at the sight of the woman at the door. He hitched his gym bag higher over his shoulder and pushed the arm of his sunglasses until they slid down from the top of his head to land on his nose. Emma, her white suit and blonde blow-out impeccable, as always, simply raised her eyebrow. She didn’t uncross her arms, and she didn’t approach, just let the two men walk toward her.

 _Dum dum dum DUM da-dum DUM da-dum…_ Billy hummed the imperial march softly under his breath and Teddy made a noise that sounded like a choked-back snicker. No matter how much he made fun, though, there was no way to shake the familiar wash of semi-dread. Emma looked at him, and at Tommy, with eyes like an apex predator, waiting to see who would be the weakest member of the herd.

He’d tried to describe the feeling to Kate once, and she’d just laughed. But she’d grown up with too many of the same kind of high-end Gucci-Prada-sociopaths, and it all seemed to roll right off her back. Billy was just faking his cool, and one day Emma would eat him for lunch.

On the plus side, she usually got exactly what she wanted on his contracts.

 He slowed his steps as they got to the door, Emma still an unmovable brick wall of perfectly-manicured judgment. “William,” she said, that eyebrow still up.

“We hit the gym.” Billy jerked his thumb at Teddy. “Getting to know each other, all that good stuff.” The bored guy at the desk gave them a once-over, and tapped something on the screen of his phone.

_Right. No such thing as privacy. We’re on the clock now._

Billy deliberately placed his hand on Teddy’s shoulder, leaning in like it was just a casual thing. Teddy’s skin was warm through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and when he turned a little to look at Billy, his muscles moved, sleek and taut, under Billy’s palm. _Holy hell._

“We’re going to get smoothies and comics now,” Billy said firmly before Emma could open her mouth again, because that was the only way he was going to get out of there. “Hey, can I throw my bag in your trunk?”

Emma stared at him and he stared back, the sunglasses his only armor.

“… no,” she said finally. And even though he’d won, she still wasn’t the first one to look away. “You’ll make my upholstery smell of sweat. Carry it yourself. And be in my office tomorrow morning, first thing.” She nodded at Teddy and her expression seemed to soften, but a moment later that odd thing-that-might-have-been-a-smile was gone. “Mr. Altman.” Emma turned on one of her high, deadly spike heels and stalked toward the sleek silver convertible still pulled up – and parked illegally – at the curb.

Billy waited until she was well out of sight before letting his shoulders sag. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rubbed at the tension headache starting to form along his forehead. “I hate when she does that,” he said, to no-one in particular.

“Refuses to carry your bags?” Teddy asked, sounding more amused than anything.

“No – tracks me down. I have no idea how she keeps turning ‘find my phone’ back on; I swear the woman has secret CIA powers.” He probably wasn’t wrong about that, either. If anyone in this town had the resources to keep tabs on Billy 24-7, it would be the Lehnsherr Group (and subsidiaries).

“Because that’s only mildly creepy,” Teddy offered in what sounded like sympathy. A moment later he ruffled Billy’s hair, his touch hesitant and light, uncertain. The brief contact sent sparks shivering down Billy’s spine, which he dutifully ignored.

Out of the corner of his eye, Billy caught sight of the guy at the desk, fiddling with his phone again. He tipped his head deliberately into Teddy’s hand, pressing up into his broad palm for a moment of blessed, perfect heat. Then he stepped away, slung his bag over his back, and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

Teddy nodded, the semi-shy grin on his face fading, replaced with something more structured and false. “After you,” he offered.

He looked much better when he smiled for real.

But that wasn’t part of the deal, was it?

Billy headed out into the bright afternoon sun, and a moment later, Teddy joined him. And for a moment, walking side by side, arms brushing lightly against each other in a deliberately accidental sort of way, Billy could make himself believe.

* * *

Teddy wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting after they walked out of the gym, but nothing at all out of the ordinary happened, despite the constant low-level sensation that he was being watched. It had to be jitters, brought on by Close Encounters of the Frost Kind, as Billy insisted upon calling it, since as far as he could tell, there weren’t any paparazzi hiding in the bushes. And why would they be? There was nothing newsworthy about a couple of guys walking along the street with gym bags.

And he wasn’t exactly going to be smooth at pretend-boyfriend-ing if he was looking over his shoulder all the time.

Billy didn’t seem to feel the same mid-shoulderblade itch. He had his sunglasses down over his eyes, his bag slung over his shoulder and hands jammed in his pockets, the perfect picture of nonchalance. Even when they stopped at Jamba Juice and the girl at the cash did a furrowed-brow double-take, he didn’t blink.

“Aren’t you that guy from that sitcom?” she asked, her broad Midwestern accent signifying that she was Not From Around Here as much as her question did. She handed Teddy his change, and never taking her eyes off Billy. “You know, with the twins, on the boat?”

“Sorry, wrong guy,” Billy lied so smoothly that Teddy would have bet the farm that he was telling the truth. “I get that all the time, though. Must have one of those faces.”

“Do you seriously?” Teddy asked, juice cup in hand, as they walked out again into the amazing sun of an L.A. afternoon. (He still wasn’t used to it. It was _weird_ having perfect weather all the time.) “Get that all the time,” he clarified.

“Kind of,” Billy shrugged, his head dipping like he was uncomfortable, or embarrassed? “It’s easier just to say no and get out of there. Tommy lives for that stuff,” he added, then let the whole line of conversation drop into a vaguely awkward silence.

Where to go from here? Teddy examined then dropped a half-dozen conversational kick-starters; too weird, too intrusive, too nerdy.

“It must have been tempting to use the twin thing for evil,” he said after a long stretch, tonguing his straw up into his mouth and slurping at his drink before he continued. Billy gave him a look that Teddy couldn’t read, eyes hidden behind his dark glasses, but he shrugged.

“Sure.” Then he flashed a wide grin, just for a moment, and the awkward moment vanished as though it had never happened. “At least before Tommy started bleaching his hair. It was really useful when one of us had a stupidly long call on set; we’d learn each other’s lines and tag out at lunchtime. There’s at least one episode of that dumb old show where I did all of Tommy’s morning shoots, because I lost a bet. I’m acting against myself for coverage half the time.”

“Makes having a twin seem worth it.”

“Once in a while. He’s not all bad. But don’t tell him I ever said that.”

“My lips are sealed.”

It was early enough in the afternoon that the comic shop wasn’t all that packed; school must not have let out yet for the day. Billy made a beeline for the back issue boxes, while Teddy lingered over the new racks, idly browsing and determinedly _not_ thinking about the fact that he was actually on an impromptu date that wasn’t really a date at all.

He glanced up over the top of the pages of the book he was leafing through, and watched Billy for a moment. Billy had pushed his glasses up on top of his head when they’d walked in to the store, his hair caught underneath and around them in rumpled spikes. He was frowning as he leafed through the polybagged comics, his lower lip pushing out just a bit and his fingers drumming against the wooden cabinet. His sharp cheekbones and the curve of his jaw were so familiar, and yet not at the same time. This was Billy as himself, not made up and on a screen a hundred times life-sized. He was just a guy, Teddy-sized, with a mouth that begged to be kissed and—

“S’cuse me,” a girl’s voice cut in to Teddy’s treacherous train of thought, and he snapped out of his stare and back into real life with a mental [thud]. “Sorry, but are you—” the girl continued, and he turned around. “Theo Altman!” she squeaked at the end of it, covering her mouth with her hands and bouncing on her toes. “Ohmigod.”

She was young, had to be high-school, a pink backpack looped on her shoulders and her brown hair in braids. A cluster of other girls were with her, staring at him.

Billy had stopped looking through the comic bin and was watching him from the other side of the narrow store, a grin spreading on his face.

“Sure,” Teddy said kindly, looking back at the girls and smiling back. Two of the girls behind the first one murmured to each other, giggled and blushed red. “That’s me. Have we met?” They definitely hadn’t, but what else did you say? He couldn’t _lie._ At least, not as easily as Billy had.

“Ohmigod, I thought so! We saw you? From like, the back of the store? And I was so sure that it was you.” The girl with braids clutched her backpack straps and gushed, her eyes wide. “We’re _big_ fans.”

“Really big,” the slim black girl behind her added, and giggled again. “Ally’s even got a poster of you on her waaa-aall.”

The third on the little group of giggling high schoolers turned bright red and smacked her friend in the arm. “Ebonnyyyyyyyy!”

“It’s true.”

“Shut up!”

“Can you sign something for me?” Braids asked, breathless, and what could he do but shrug, smile back and agree? It wasn’t like he got this all the time, and they were just kids.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” he answered, and Ebony looked like she was about to faint. Braids dropped her backpack on the floor and started frantically ransacking it, looking for something.

“I didn’t think there were any posters made from my shoots,” Teddy said, leaning on the rack in order to have something to do with his arm.

“Oh, it’s not an _official_ poster,” Ebony replied, as Braids resurfaced with a trapper-keeper and a silver glitter pen. “She jumped the train tracks to peel it off the billboard on the opposite side.”

Behind the girls, Billy seemed to be choking on his juice. Teddy ignored him.

“That’s impressive.” Teddy took the binder and the pen, shaking it a couple of times to get it to work. “Who do I sign to?”

“Patty,” Braids said, and her face turned so red that Teddy thought for a moment – just one – that she was hyperventilating.

He’d had to wait for Billy in the bar the other night. He kind of knew what that felt like.

So he signed the binder in swoopy letters _(To Patty, thanks for being a fan! Theo Altman)_ , making sure to add a happy face after his name and an underline. So it looked like he’d made an effort. 

“Okay okay okay,” Ally seemed to have recovered, and she made squishing motions to the other girls to make them bunch into a little group. “Can we take a selfie?” she implored, eyes wide. “No-one at school will _ever_ believe that we met you.”

“I wanna touch his bicep,” Ebony stage-whispered, only to get elbowed by both of the others.

“Sure, why not.” In for a penny, right? It was painless, as far as these things went. Phones came out, he smiled, the girls giggled, and then they left again in a swooning cloud of mall perfume and teenage pheromones.

And unlike other shoots he’d been on, not one of them had tried to pinch his butt.

Looking around as though making sure the coast was clear, Billy sidled up to him a minute later, and batted his eyelashes. “Can I take a selfie?” he implored. Teddy just shook his head. Billy snickered and straightened up, a small stack of comics under his arm. “You’re amazingly patient.”

Teddy shrugged, putting _My Life as a Weapon_ back on the rack. “What else am I going to do? It’s flattering, really, and kind of sweet. I just try not to think too hard about the stolen underwear poster in her bedroom.”

Billy laughed, pushing his glasses back up as they tried to slide further down his head. “You don’t find that part flattering?”

“Well, if it was _your_ bedroom wall…” Teddy flirted, batting his eyelashes.

To his vague surprise, Billy pinked up before shrugging it off with a laugh. “Sure, whatever. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my pulls. What are you getting?” Teddy craned his neck to see the titles.

“I’m woefully behind on everything DC,” Billy held up a sheaf of Nightwing comics, Grayson butt front and center on the top issue.

“And you tease teenage girls for having posters,” Teddy snickered.

“Call it… research.” Billy held his head high, leading the way to the cash. “You never know, one day I might get an offer.”   

Teddy couldn’t help his wandering eyes, and it wasn’t like Billy would catch him looking. He had an amazing back, a tight butt—at least in those clothes—and while his legs weren’t exactly on display right now, the look that Teddy had stolen at the gym was more than enough to impress Billy’s long, lean frame in his mind’s eye forever. “You in spandex?” he grinned, trying to keep his tone light. “I would totally be there for that. Just for the record.”

Billy did turn, then, and catch his eye, and that pink colored his cheeks again, just for a moment before it was gone again. “Weirder things have happened,” was all he said, and stepped up to the counter to pay.

* * *

WILL LEHNSHERR

WILL HE OR WON’T HE BE THE NEW BATMAN?

By TMZ staff

Check out these photos of Hollywood Brat Pack darling Will Lehnsherr coming out of Yesterday’s Heroes this afternoon after a shopping spree. Sources say that our favorite sitcom kid, in the store with a hot blond friend, spent about twenty minutes looking through the stock, then left with a stack of Batman comics from the past three years.

Is the Good Twin regressing to his missed childhood, or preparing for a new role in the billion-dollar franchise?

-

**Teddy: Ooh, are you going to play Batman? No, no-  I’m thinking Nightwing.**

**Billy: Oh yeah; sure. I was considering auditioning for Oracle.**

**Teddy: You’d look good as a redhead.**

**Billy: I wonder how long it would take to get a rumor going that I was reading for a drag version of Harley Quinn…?**

**Teddy: Ten bucks says I can get that trending in under an hour.**

**Billy: Prove it.**

-

WILL LEHNSHERR

DRAGGING IT OUT FOR SPANDEX ROLE?

By TMZ Staff

Sources in the biz tell us that Will’s recent comic shopping spree may be in preparation for a stab at the character of Harley Quinn, the comic-book Joker’s on-again-off-again psycho girlfriend. That’ll be a whole new take on the character, and a major stretch for Will, whose usual roles are more Oscar-bait, and less Zigfeld’s Follies. Good luck, dude. You’ll need it. 

-

**Billy: I hate you. That was very impressive.**

**Teddy: I have super-editor privileges on IMDB-Wiki.**

**Billy: Of course you do.**

* * *

Billy hadn’t exactly _intended_ to take Teddy home with him after their dinner date. It had just kind of… happened.

Not that anything else had happened. Just taking him home. It had made sense at the time.

Emma had, as she promised, arranged a reservation for them at the kind of nice swanky restaurant that was designed more to be seen at than for actual eating. They’d been shown to the bar long before they were taken to their seats, Teddy leaning in close to be heard over the music. It hadn’t been what he’d been saying that was important; the only thing Billy could remember was the heat of his hand on the small of Billy’s back, the faint tang of some fresh and outdoorsy cologne, the smooth, smooth skin along his jaw that meant he’d shaved not long before leaving the house.

And, of course, the way-too-familiar way people did the stare-and-duck which meant ‘dude, is that who I think it is-’ through to ‘psssst, don’t stare!’ that was the soundtrack of going out in Hollywood. Teddy didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He just ordered them drinks and played his part, clinking his glass lightly against Billy’s before he drank, staring into Billy’s eyes like he was the only person on the planet, resting his hand on the curve at the base of Billy’s spine when the maitre d’ came to show them to their table.

Teddy’s hair shone golden in the candlelight, and his eyes had crinkled up in the corners when he laughed.

It had looked, sounded, _felt_ like a real laugh. So Billy had ordered a second bottle of wine, because that was the only way he was going to get through the evening in one piece.

Emma had stupid ideas.

But they’d pulled it off, hadn’t they? The photographers had been waiting for them when they left the restaurant, and Teddy had frozen like a deer in the headlights when the flashbulbs started going off in his eyes. There were a couple of them that Billy recognized, even if only vaguely; some yahoos who made part of their living out of following ex-Disney kids around and making their lives hell.

So he’d grabbed Teddy’s hand and pulled him through the scrum, head down and ignoring the catcalls and whistles that followed. “They just want a reaction,” he’d had to explain, once they made it to the relative safety of the car. “Any kind of reaction. And the moment you give it to them, you’re screwed.”

With any luck, the story in the tabloids this morning would be ‘gay star has date, is gay after all’ rather than ‘angry gay men run over annoying photographer.’ Which he hadn’t done, but had been _really fucking tempted_.

It had been a lot easier, and a lot safer, to get the driver to take them back to his and Tommy’s place, a secure condo in a gated property, than try and drop Teddy off at his own apartment without getting followed.

And that was how Billy Maximoff had ended up bringing his hot date home after a very boozy night out, and still ended up sleeping alone on the couch.  

Because behind the door that led to his bedroom, Teddy Altman was probably still passed out in Billy’s bed. If Billy closed his eyes and tried hard to listen, he could probably hear his snoring.

Instead he just lay there, testing his fingers and toes one at a time to make sure they were all still there. His head wasn’t throbbing as badly as he’d expected, thank god. He was, however, still in his clothes. At least his shoes were by the door. Teddy’s were… under the table? How had they stumbled in here last night like that? He only had flashes of memory.

—tripping on the edge of the rug and almost falling into Teddy’s arms, both of them laughing—

—trying to make coffee and giving up when he hadn’t been able to get the box of filters open—

—Teddy trying to insist that he’d take the couch, and Billy insisting just as loudly that _he_ was the host, _he_ had been raised to be polite, so _he_ got to say who slept where—

—A goodnight almost handshake that had turned into kind of a sloppy hug-backpat-thing and ended with the door closing, Billy sliding down the wall, and sitting on the floor for five or fifty minutes, thinking.

He desperately needed a shower, and to change his clothes.

Problem was, his bathroom was on the other side of the bedroom, which meant going through the space where Teddy was still sleeping.

The smart thing to do would be to go upstairs to Tommy’s room and use his shower, borrow some of his clothes. Except that Kate had filled his shelves with loofahs and all kinds of smelly soaps that everyone else was forbidden from touching, under pain of death.

Billy was a lot more scared of Kate Bishop than he was of Teddy.

Right, so that was decided. Billy slowly lowered his hand to the door handle of his own bedroom door, and just as slowly, started to turn it. The metal was cool against his palm, his hand flushing warm and sweat starting to prickle beneath his fingers. It was his own room, for crying out loud! Why was he quietly freaking out?

The latch opened with a soft click, and the door swung inward, only a bit, before Billy stopped it. He listened. No sounds came from the other side except for a soft rhythmic exhale that would be Teddy breathing.

Billy pushed the door open just a little more, the hinges thankfully silent in the still morning air. Light filtered in through the half-closed blinds, picking out the sleeping figure of the man in Billy’s bed. He was lying on his front, his head turned toward the window, and the sheets rumpled down around the level of his waist.

Teddy was bare from the waist up, his shirt and pants from the night before crumpled in a pile on Billy’s bedroom floor. The top elastic of whatever briefs he was wearing was just barely visible above the top edge of the sheet, a sliver of a strip of white and nothing more.

His back was poetry, his muscles carved as though from alabaster. The early light played gently over the curves and ripples of his body: his shoulder-blades, his impossible biceps, the perfect firm globes of his buttocks beneath the sheets.

He snorted in his sleep, shifted as though he’d sensed a change in the air, but settled again, his lower lip pushing out in a perfect soft pout. Glints of gold along his jaw and above his upper lip would be stubble, just barely visible in this light, but his back and shoulders were completely smooth.

 _Waxed?_ Billy bit his lip, hard, to avoid the vaguely hysterical giggles that wanted to burst forth at the combination of mental image and the almost orgasmic rush of desire that was burning through him like a lightning strike.

_My god, he’s beautiful._

And he wasn’t for touching. NAFF – Not Available For Fucking.

_I really hate Emma._

Billy tiptoed quietly into the room, stealing past the bed. His closet had a door into it from the bathroom, so he could be washed and dressed again before ever coming out. That was a good plan. That was a brilliant plan.

He made it as far as into the shower itself, the bathroom door locked securely behind him, before Billy let himself sag against the cool tile wall and groan aloud. Closing his eyes didn’t help; the image of Teddy, sprawled out and half-naked in his bed, would hover there behind his eyelids for the rest of his natural life.

It didn’t help that the guy was smart, funny, kind—he had to be unfairly gorgeous, too.

Billy’s dick complained, the semi he’d been ignoring for the past five minutes threatening to get worse with every moment Billy stood there in the shower, contemplating the way the muscles curved down from Teddy’s shoulders toward his waist and the pair of soft hollows in the small of his back, one on either side of his spine.

Billy pulled on the water and stood under it, willing his hard-on away.

_He’s right there. Can’t do it._

It would be unbelievably rude to jerk it to mental movies of the guy when he was sleeping, totally unaware, right out there in Billy’s bed. Wouldn’t it?

Billy’s dick didn’t seem to get the message. Teddy’s skin looked like it would be so soft, warm under Billy’s lips. He’d kiss his way down Teddy’s spine, tasting every hollow, every divot, running his tongue along the firm curves of every muscle in his back, sink his teeth lightly into the solid bulge of Teddy’s bicep, and-

He reached out blindly and swung the handle all the way over to Cold. The freezing jets of water hit him full-on, blinding him with the frigid spray and leaving his body absolutely unable to hold on to thoughts of lust.

_Unable to hold on to thoughts of lust. Come on. Shoo. Get out of here._

It worked, eventually, and Billy soaped and shampooed himself under cool water, seething inside with loathing. Some of it directed at himself for being so easy, and a good chunk of it at the universe at large for its own natural perversity.

He was out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and trying to wipe the steam-fog off the mirror when someone knocked on the bathroom door. Billy didn’t even think about it, his mind on other things; he just turned, threw the lock and opened the door for Tommy.

Teddy stood there instead, because Teddy had spent the night in Billy’s room, and Tommy had probably crashed at Kate’s.

Teddy stood there, dressed in his slacks from the night before, his shirt on but unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. He was barefoot, his hair rumpled and all bed-heady, bags under his eyes showing that he was probably feeling about the same as Billy about the idea of mornings in general.

His chest was as sculpted as his back, every line and crease a detail that would make an artist swoon. He wasn’t waxed, or at least not completely, soft blond fuzz circling his small pink nipples and trailing down his chest toward the taut, rippled plane of his stomach. Acres of tantalizing bare skin, the most perfectly built man Billy had ever seen, barely two or three inches away.

And Billy was only wearing a towel.

He froze, like Teddy had in front of the paparazzi the night before, his mouth dry and his tongue thick. Teddy—Teddy was _looking_ at him, his eyes dropping to Billy’s chest (not at all nice like his; skinny, despite all of Nate’s best efforts to train him up, with dark hair that made a long line down to his crotch, and oh _God_ had Teddy just looked down before his eyes flicked back up to Billy’s again? If he had, he would have seen Billy’s very physical reaction to his nearness, and there would be no apologizing for it. He would die of shame and that would be the end of everything.)

Teddy’s ears went pink. It shouldn’t have looked as cute as it did. Could he see Billy’s mind pinwheeling into chaos as they stared at each other?

He was so close. Billy could reach out right now and press his hand against Teddy’s chest, feel that pec, just to be sure it was real…

“Hi,” Teddy said quietly, and he kept his eyes firmly locked on Billy’s, like he was afraid of something.

_Probably afraid I’m going to jump him now that I have him alone. Kill me now._

Billy swallowed hard to loosen his tongue, and Teddy’s eyes dropped toward the movement before quickly looking back up. “Hi,” he said, and Teddy’s face softened into a smile.

Something fierce and bold thrummed in the air between them with just those two words, a wild energy that set Billy’s pulse racing. “How’s your head?” he blurted out, for lack of anything better.

Teddy relaxed, some stiffness easing out of him. “Not bad,” he confessed, with a rueful smile. “You?”

Basic conversation; he could do that. Except that Teddy hadn’t stepped back, and they were both half-naked, standing in the door to Billy’s bedroom. That awareness sunk into his skin and vibrated there, alarming and bright.

“I’ll live,” Billy replied.  

Teddy seemed to move closer, or maybe the room receded, and it was just the two of them, standing there in the sweet steam-mist from the bathroom. “Good,” Teddy said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Teddy ducked his head in that way that was so alarmingly endearing, then grinned. “It would suck if I had to call 911 from your place. Talk about bad PR.”

Billy laughed, and the moment didn’t break. He could do it, just lean in and- “And here I thought you were going to say something nice,” he said instead.

“I definitely could,” Teddy offered, and his voice was soft, his lips parting, and it was going to happen something was going to happen and-

The apartment door slammed, followed by the sound of shoes being dropped on the floor.

Teddy jumped back and Billy flinched, footsteps echoing in the hall outside his room. Tommy’s voice came next, calling out to him. “Billy? You home?”

Confusion flashed bright in Teddy’s dark blue eyes. “Who?”

“My brother,” Billy said, panic rising. Just because his body hated him. And all of the delicious, blood-bubbling tension that had been holding Billy up was now completely, utterly gone.

“Billy?”

“And his girlfriend,” Billy added, closing his eyes.

Someone knocked on his door. “I’m here,” he called back, “gimme a chance to find pants.”

“Putting coffee on, loser,” came Tommy’s voice, and then the footsteps receded.

“I’m sorry,” Billy babbled, utterly uncool. “They weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow; I didn’t-”

“Can I, er-“ Teddy gestured at the bathroom behind Billy, shifting his weight awkwardly.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I- yeah.” Billy ducked out of the way, passing half-under the arm Teddy raised to give him room. “I’ll just, um. Get dressed now.”

“Yeah. I need to. Wash and stuff.” Teddy took a couple of steps in to the bathroom and swung the door closed behind him. The lock turned a moment later, leaving Billy, his towel and his incredibly poorly timed hard-on standing there alone, uncomfortable in every conceivable way.

It took another minute or so to wrestle his misbehaving libido into submission, and the sound of running water from his en suite didn’t help matters any. Billy hauled on a pair of jeans and shoved his head through the neck of a t-shirt, not particularly caring whether or not it matched. Clothes, coffee, and then explain to Tommy and Kate just how and why the most beautiful man in all of creation had ended up in Billy’s room overnight—and not with Billy.

Kate and Tommy were still dressed for clubbing when Billy sat down across from them at the breakfast bar, sunglasses pushed high up on Kate’s nose to block the light. Tommy had three different club stamps on his hand, one of which Billy vaguely recognized as being from a bar in Sacramento.

“Where the hell have _you_ been?” he asked, poking Kate in the knee. She swatted at him without connecting, then pushed her glasses slowly up to the top of her head.

“Having fun, little bro.” Tommy pulled open the fridge and stared into it for a minute, grabbing the milk. “Like you were supposed to be.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“I forgot!” Kate lit up with a wicked grin. “How did your date with He-Man go last night?”

Billy glanced back at the door to his room—still closed. Thank God. “I regret telling either of you anything,” he scowled, but it wasn’t particularly effective. How could he make them shut up and go away before Teddy left the room? Was it even humanly possible? “It was fine. Can we drop it?”

Kate shook her head. “Not a chance. I need to hear all the sexy details.” She crossed her legs at the knee and sat forward, chin in hand. “Did you actually talk, or did he spend the whole time flexing his abs?”

“I hate you,” Billy scowled.

“No, you don’t. You love me. I’m the BFF you always wanted.”

Door still closed. Billy met her eyes and flashed a vaguely sheepish grin. “They are magnificent abs,” he muttered. Not that he should be encouraging them. What if Teddy heard them talking about him like some kind of… piece of meat?

“If you like that kind of thing,” Tommy snorted. “Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?”

Kate kept talking, keeping the previous thread of conversation alive. “What was it you told Tommy last week, that even his pecs have pecs? Did you touch them?”

“Would you two keep it down?” Billy hissed.

“Why?” Tommy asked.  

“He’s sleeping-” Billy tried, and that wasn’t the right answer to give at all. They turned on him like a pack of freaking raptors.

Kate’s eyes went wide with delight. “Booo, you whore.”

“Arrrgh!” Billy growled at her. “It’s not like that!”

Tommy started laughing, chuckling delightedly as he finished setting up the coffee pot to perk. “Yeah sure, little bro. I saw how you drooled over those photos.”

“Shut up, Tommy.” Billy sank down and buried his head in his hands. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he and Teddy had actually—if there was any real chance that Teddy would be interested—

The window was right over there. If he got a running start, maybe he could break the glass with his shoulder. The pool wasn’t far away, he might hit it and survive.

“A fling will be good for you,” Kate added decisively, rubbing salt into the wound so much more than was necessary. “How long has it been since you had a date, anyway?”

“It’s about damn time you got laid, if you ask me. Too bad it took Emma playing pimp to arrange it,” Tommy said, and that was _it._ That was the absolute limit.

Billy sat up, stood up and completely, entirely forgot about everything other than shutting them up. “I do not need _Emma Frost_ to find me dates, thank you very much. I did not sleep with him, I have not slept with him, I’m not _interested_ in sleeping with him.” _Liar._ “This is one of Emma’s annoying publicity stunts, and that’s _all_.”

And he had to remember that.

Why was Kate making slashing signs across her throat?

Had that been the door closing?

Billy stood very, very still.

_I am not going to like what I see when I turn around._

Teddy stood there, a few feet behind them, fully dressed. He had a faint smile on his face, but there were no crinkles at all at the corners of his eyes.

“This seems like a bad time,” he said calmly, and Billy died inside.

“You must be Theo.” Kate recovered first, rising to her bare feet and holding out her hand. Teddy shook it, his shoulders tight and everything about his relaxed posture fake, fake, fake.

“Katherine Bishop, right? I’ve seen your photo in the papers.” He didn’t look at Billy.

“Call me Kate,” she instructed. “This is Tom, obviously enough.”

“Hey,” Tommy saluted him with his coffee mug. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Teddy looked around for his shoes, pulling them quickly out from under the table. “I should really get going. I’ll have the concierge call me a cab.”

Was it possible for your soul to wither away inside you, all at once? Billy sucked in air and tried to find words. “Teddy-”

Teddy didn’t let him get a sentence out. “I appreciate the crash space, Will. Thanks.” He shoved his feet in his shoes and checked his pockets for his wallet, keys, phone. “I’ll, uh. Text you and figure out what you want to arrange next.”

And he looked Billy in the eyes for the first time. There was something weird there, something that shouldn’t have been so pointed and hard-edged for a business arrangement. But then it was gone, replaced by the plastic Hollywood smile that everyone in this goddamned town wore in public.

“Yeah,” Billy said quietly, before he got his own cover face back into place. “That would be good.”

Teddy left.

The door closed behind him and Billy walked the four paces back toward the couch. He let his knees buckle, then, and slowly toppled backward over the couch arm, until he landed in the pillows.

They still smelled like Teddy’s cologne. 

“That could have gone better,” Kate said. Billy held up one hand, and flipped her his middle finger.

Tommy, wonder of wonders, just crossed the room, pushed a cup of coffee into Billy’s raised hand, and didn’t say much of anything at all.

* * *

_And now it’s time for the latest in celebrity gossip. I’m no fool, I know that’s what you’re all tuning in for. What else do we have to talk about here in sunny LA? The weather’s always perfect, the traffic’s always awful, and people who make more money than schmucks like you and me will always be making fools out of themselves in public. So who’s on the list today?_

_We had a call in this morning from Anna—thank you, Anna—about a walk of shame she spotted. That would be Theo Altman, a model more famous for his rock-hard abs than his brains, leaving the Lehnsherr twins’ condo around eight this morning, still dressed for fine dining. I’ll say this for Will, when he goes for a reverse beard he goes in hard. I didn’t predict a papped sleep-over for at least another week._

_Are we looking at a man who’s been well-sexed, d’you think, or is this just a faux-mance with big, blond and beefy to help the Lehnsherr consortium’s bid to sweep the Oscars? You can check out the pics and leave your comments on the station’s facebook page… now._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe a bad dress rehearsal means the real performance will go well. A guy can dream, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All art by the ever-astounding Cris-art! [Follow her (NSFW) blog here.](http://cris-art.tumblr.com/) (Social media manips are mine.)

Thank God for cab drivers who knew when not to try and start awkward conversations. Teddy sat in the back seat, sunk low and head aching. The radio wasn’t loud enough to drown out the words that kept replaying themselves over and over again in his head.

 _I did not sleep with him, I have not slept with him, I’m not_  interested  _in sleeping with him._

He was in the right, that was the worst of it. Everything Billy— _Will_ —had said was right. They hadn’t started dating because of any chance meeting or undeniable burning attraction, and it wasn’t going to end in happily-ever-after. Whatever Teddy might have thought last night, when Will looked up at him with his brilliant smile, his dark eyes almost black in the dim light, none of it had been real.

And Teddy had fallen for it anyway.

He knew better. At least, he should have known better. And still, overhearing Will’s declarations had caught him like a punch to the solar plexus.

_Good. Maybe now you can focus on your job and not on acting like an idiot._

That didn’t make him feel any better.

Had it been so wrong to hope? The honking car horns outside as he slunk home and the look on Will’s face as he shouted at Tom and Katherine both seemed to say yes.

But there had been moments over the past few days when he’d wondered. Billy—no, _Will_ —looked at him every once in a while with this open and bright smile, or a look of wonder would pass behind his eyes. He closed them down so easily, hid away his feelings from the world. And from Teddy, who was still basically a stranger, despite having spent the night in his bed.

Alone in his bed, because Will had taken the couch.

What else would he expect?

David and Emma had set them up, so that Will and Teddy could do each other favors. Will was there to launch Teddy’s acting career. Sleeping with him, well. It would make Teddy a prostitute, wouldn’t it? And that was a there he wasn’t going.

But —and there was always that but—there had been pure electricity between them last night. Teddy had grabbed Will’s hand across the table in a moment of exuberance and Will hadn’t pulled away. They’d sat there, Will’s hand warm and solid beneath Teddy’s, until the waiter had come by to bring their second bottle of wine.

And then back at Will’s place, breathless with laughter, Teddy’s skin on fire from the constant, casual ways Will had touched him, arms brushing, hands touching, shoulders bumping, constantly, _constantly_ invading his space, every contact a tiny electric thrill. In any other circumstance those signals would have been green lights, signs that Teddy’s attraction was welcome, even returned.

This morning, before Tom and Katherine came back, Teddy could have sworn that there was something surging, there at the bathroom door—something that had seared through his blood and made the hairs on his arms stand up on end. He’d seen Will mostly-naked before, of course; he’d bared almost everything in his last film, and Teddy wasn’t blasé enough to have ignored that. But seeing him in person—not just seeing him, but being close enough to touch him, to feel the heat from his shower radiating off his still-wet skin, to see the droplets of water trailing down over his defined shoulders, drops glistening on his chest, where the pink of his nipples peeked out from a dark smudge of hair…

And all that time that he’d been staring, Will had been staring back at him, his eyes wide and his breathing rapid.

There had been something there. He wasn’t crazy.

Not that any of it mattered now.

Teddy was able to pay the cab driver and slink into his building without running into anyone that he knew. Stopping to explain why he was coming home before work in a rumpled suit, unshaved and smelling of cologne… it wasn’t in his plan.

He closed the door to his tiny apartment behind him, and breathed out a long sigh of relief. He pulled off his jacket and left it hanging over the bar stool that served as his kitchen chair, and had made it as far as kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt when the front door opened.

“Ted?”

It wasn’t Will. Something in the middle of Teddy’s chest had seized up tight at the sound of the door handle turning, only to burst and leave a sour ache behind when David was the one standing there in the hall.

“You could call first,” Teddy pointed out, moving into his bedroom to finish changing, leaving the door open so that David could talk at him through it. He’d keep talking anyway; that was what agents did. It was the least Teddy could do to actually seem like he was listening.

“Where were you last night?” David asked, setting his bag down with a thump sound, somewhere by Teddy’s old couch. “Kesler’s show is going nuts.”

“I thought he was a ‘crazy shock jock who played to the frat boy crowd’?” Teddy fired back, his voice muffling as he pulled a t-shirt on over his head. He balled up his nice shirt and flung it toward the laundry bag in a fit of petulance aimed at himself, and his own stupid high hopes. “Why were you listening to him?”

“Because frat boy or not, he has the audience.” David appeared in Teddy’s bedroom door, his arms folded and his expression tight. Teddy kept his back turned until he’d done up his jeans, and only then turned around to face the music. “Teddy,” David began, his voice softer but his face just as carefully expressionless. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Teddy had turned down Tom’s offer of coffee, and his brain was beating a taiko rhythm against the inside of his skull. He pushed past David, only stopping long enough to make sure he was going to get out of the way, and headed for the tiny little galley kitchen on the other side of the apartment.

Regret sank in as he filled the coffee pot, and guilt for the harsh words. Teddy sighed, his shoulders slumping despite themselves. “But no, for the record. I had too much wine at dinner—we both did—and he offered me crash space. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

That seemed to have been the answer David was waiting for, and he came to join Teddy at the counter. “That’s good,” he said quickly, then paused before he spoke again. “I only mean that it would complicate things. He’s a good looking guy, and so are you. It would be natural.” He faltered, like a cough was caught in his throat. “But keep in mind, this is a short-term arrangement.”

“I don’t see how I could forget.” Teddy tried to shuffle through the feelings kicking around in his gut before trying to shove them all back inside their imaginary boxes. “I like him,” he confessed into the stretching silence. “More than I thought I would. I’m comfortable around him. And I think—I thought—maybe he might feel the same way.”

David’s reply was sharper, when it came. “He might. Or he might not. All we know about him, Teddy, is that he needs you as much as you need him. His people are assembling the tools he needs for awards season. I’m working to get you the career that you want. And in the end, you’ll both move on to your own lives.”

How sad was it that in a few short days, Teddy had already grown used to the idea of Will having a part in the rest of that life? “It would be nice if we could stay friends,” he said, and the wistful tone in it was apparent even to him.

David didn’t seem impressed. “If this is going to create a conflict for you, we can call it off right now. You can’t get attached, Teddy.” He put his hand on Teddy’s shoulder, and like always, he was a stabilizing, solid force. “Just remember,” David warned, his dark eyes unreadable. “This is a job for him as well. His career trajectory depends on what happens over the next five months. And Will Lehnsherr is a very good actor.”

The last words cut into Teddy like razors, bringing new clarity. How much more plausible would Teddy’s public reactions be, if he also believed that Will was for real? “No,” Teddy said, straightening his back and taking a deep breath in. “We had a deal. I’ll do my bit.”

“Good,” David said, taking his hand away. Teddy poured two cups of coffee, David pulled out some booking sheets to discuss, and that, at least as far as discussions of Will Lehnsherr went, appeared to be that.

* * *

 

*~*lindasyy*~* @twinsfan_omg

.@nottheeviltwin net going crazy over pics of u n @somecallmetheo – r u dating for realz?? SO HOT.

19 retweets 32 likes

   
Will Lehnsherr (official) @nottheeviltwin

@twinsfan_omg @somecallmetheo He’s a really great guy. Anyone would be lucky to date him.  

1467 retweets 1,032 likes

* * *

**Billy: I’m sorry about this morning.**

**Billy: Not my most shining moment.**

**Billy: Mornings aren’t my strong suit, especially with hangovers and brothers involved.**

**Billy: … we cool?**

**Teddy: Sorry about that. Was in a meeting and my phone was off.**

**Teddy: It’s fine! There’s nothing to apologize for.**

**Teddy: Though the twitter message was a nice touch.**

**Billy: I meant it.**

**Teddy: I’m not going to sell our texts; you can relax.**

**Billy: That’s not why I said it. And I know that.**

**Billy: That is**

**Billy: Look, can we meet up? Groveling is easier in person.**

**Teddy: Yeah, sure. I’m busy tonight. Tomorrow?**

**Billy: Tomorrow’s good. 10 pm, Roosevelt again?**

**Teddy: See you there.**

 

Teddy scowled at his phone, letting out the annoyance he didn’t dare show in text. He didn’t technically have plans _yet_ , but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make some. He wasn’t playing coy—you didn’t play hard-to-get with a job. He was just… being careful not to oversaturate the media. Yeah.

And it would give him some very necessary distance to clear his head before he sat across from Will once more.

What he really needed was some uncomplicated guy-time. Just hang out with a friend, no worries about work, or attraction, or false-faced lies. He scrolled quickly through his contacts until he landed on the one he wanted. “Eli? Hey! It’s Teddy. I don’t have anything going on tonight – did you want to go play pool or something?”

 _Meet my childhood crush, no problem; pretend to be in love—hah._ Like any good ever came from meeting one’s heroes in the flesh.  

* * *

Billy frowned at his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. Traffic blared horns around him, but the only sound inside the towncar was Emma’s polished nails tick-ticka-ticking on her laptop keyboard.

_What was Teddy doing tonight? Was he out on another date?_

Friday night was date night. He’d said he wasn’t seeing anybody, but how could Billy be sure?

And why did he think he even had a right to know? Teddy wasn’t his property. They weren’t really together. Billy had been an idiot to agree to any of this. It was too damn close to… to… Pretty Woman, that’s what this whole scenario was, and Billy had been complicit in forcing Teddy into the Julia Roberts role.

“Oh my God,” he muttered out loud. “I’m the Richard Gere.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” Emma replied, not looking up and not missing a beat. “And you won’t ever be if you keep moping. Two minutes until we’re at your next meeting, William. Stop brooding and put on your happy face.”

_I hate my goddamn happy face._

But like a good boy, he did it anyway. 

* * *

Until last week, Teddy had never set foot in the incredibly swanky bar at the Hollywood Roosevelt. And now here he was again, at the same table, staring into practically the same beer, waiting for Will Lehnsherr to show up.

_It’s déjà vu all over again._

He’d burned off the worst of his anger and humiliation at the gym that morning, his arms and thighs still aching as a reminder. Eli hadn’t even taken the opportunity to give him shit, just suiting up, sticking in his mouthguard and letting Teddy go to town on the bags. Teddy should be meeting _Eli_ for drinks as a thank-you, not sitting around waiting for Will to grace him with his presence.

_No, that’s not fair. He’s as much of a pawn in all of this as I am. And if this doesn’t work, he’s got a hell of a lot more to lose._

David had started booking him for auditions ( _be real –_ an _audition)_ , but that didn’t guarantee anything.

_If all else fails, there’s always back to catalogs._

_Kill me._

It felt like he’d been sitting there for an hour, but his phone still only said 10:11 when Will skidded into sight at the door. He looked flustered, his hair sticking out in all directions and an unbuttoned white shirt thrown on over a t-shirt. From his vantage point, Teddy could see the transformation in the doorway. Will stopped, his shoulders rose and fell, then his head came up, his back went straight, and a totally different (confident, self-assured, artfully rumpled) movie star sauntered into the bar.

 _He’s a very good actor_. David’s words rang loudly in Teddy’s ears even as he stood up and waited for Will to make his way over to the table.

_But so am I._

“Hey,” Teddy greeted him, and Will’s mouth registered a smile that didn’t—quite—reach his eyes.

“Hey. Sorry that I’m late,” Will said, a pleading note in his voice even as the waitress hurried over. “There was a production meeting that ran over, and traffic-”

“It’s fine.” Teddy cut him off. “You’re not that late.”

Will ordered a drink and waited until the waitress had been and gone before he spoke again. “I appreciate that, but considering where we left things, I wanted this to go well.” And he frowned into his beer.

“Yeah, well.” Teddy shrugged, instantly uncomfortable in a way he hadn’t been around Will since the first ten minutes of their _last_ meeting in this bar. The first “blind date.” Only a week ago? Really? “You weren’t _wrong_ , per se. That… kind of thing certainly wasn’t part of what we agreed on.”

“Will you let me explain, please?” The words burst out of Will like he couldn’t control them, maybe hadn’t intended to say them like that, and Teddy shut up. Mostly out of shock, if he had to be completely honest. But it gave Will the opening he needed to keep talking, and that seemed to be all he needed.

“It’s not about you-”

Teddy sucked in breath and took a drink.

“That’s not what I mean.” Will dragged his hand through his hair and chewed his bottom lip, looking more human than he had when he’d first walked in. “Tommy and Kate- no, it wasn’t their fault, I’m not making excuses. But they were giving me shit about sleeping with you. And how hot you are. And… things like that. And all I could hear was our conversation, here-” he gestured at the table, and the room around them. “About you being so much more than a sex symbol. And I know we’re supposed to be…” he trailed off, his cheeks tinged with red for a moment.

“But I couldn’t have Tommy and Kate think of you that way. Or let them believe that you would be the kind of person to agree to a casting couch deal. I wasn’t thinking about you overhearing, or what it might sound like. I let my temper get away with me.”

And that… was not the excuse that Teddy had braced himself to hear. He sat with it a moment, took a drink to give him time to decide if he liked it or not. _Not bad._ “Let me get this straight. You told them I was hopelessly unfuckable because you were protecting me?”

Will groaned. “When you put it that way, it sounds dumb.”

“You think?”

Silence fell, Will slugging back about half his beer at once. He set down his glass with a ringing sound on the glass-topped table, and their eyes met. “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Will offered quietly. “I hate myself for it.”

“That’s taking it a bit far, I think,” Teddy offered equally quietly, as absolution.

Will nodded. “Now that we’ve established that I’m an ass when I don’t have a script in front of me, will you accept my apology?”

Teddy pretended to think it over, but he already knew what he was going to say. “Only if it comes with another drink.”

“Deal.” Will accepted immediately, brightening and sitting up taller. He caught the waitress’ eye, then turned back to Teddy. “I’d ask if we could start over, but I think we’re still technically starting.”

“Call it a dress rehearsal?” Teddy offered, and Will grinned. A surge of pleasure rushed through Teddy at the sight, which he tried to ignore. “A bad dress rehearsal is a good sign.”

“I’m down with that if you are,” Will agreed, his whole demeanor seeming lighter, easier, more relaxed. The tension ebbed slowly out of Teddy’s shoulders in return, and by the time the waitress made it to their table, he had ducked his head and was laughing at Will’s jokes.

“For the record,” Will added quietly, once she had gone again. “You’re definitely not unattractive.”

Teddy held up a hand. _Don’t go there, please._ “Careful,” he said, keeping it light. “You’re coming close to sticking your foot in it again.”

_Tell me again that you like me, that you think I’m ‘hot.’ I’d lower myself to casting couch level if it was for you-_

And that was a line of thinking that was going to get Teddy absolutely nowhere fast.

“Noted.” Will nodded sagely, then dug his phone out of his back pocket when something bleeped in a rapid little sequence. “Hang on—that’s Tommy.”

“Answering your phone on a date?” Teddy teased, testing whatever new boundaries they had just started to set.

“This is why I’m single,” Will joked, reading whatever had flashed onto his phone screen. “I’m a shitty boyfriend.”

“No kidding. I’m going to sell _that_ story to the press next.”

Will’s head jerked up, his eyes wide, before he saw Teddy’s grin and started to laugh. “You had me going for a second there.”

“Learn to trust, dude.”

“Not likely,” Will murmured softly, probably not really intended for Teddy to hear, and the soft and tender parts of Teddy’s heart broke a little bit for everything that implied. “Tommy and Kate are across the street at Mann’s; he wants to know if they can come join us.” He looked up from his phone with a wry grin. “He says Kate wants to make sure I groveled properly.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Teddy asked, something sinking in the middle of his chest. “We didn’t exactly make good first impressions.” On the other hand, maybe having a pair of chaperones would be a better idea than hanging out with Will on his own. He was still fighting the totally-hormonal urge to sink under the table and do the kind of things to him that would get them kicked out of the bar.  

“It’ll be fine,” Will promised. “This will be better.” His phone bleeped again and he winced. “Plus, they’re already here.”

Teddy didn’t get a good look at the door this time, but practically seconds later Will was being pushed into the middle of the booth to make room for Katherine Bishop, heiress, socialite, almost star of her own reality show before _she’d_ pulled the plug, darling of high society media. Tonight she was encased in a slinky purple minidress, shoes that wrapped up her shins, and diamonds in her ears that probably cost more than Teddy had left to pay in student loans.

Tom Lehnsherr slid in beside Teddy, pausing only long enough to offer him a handshake and a “you look better than yesterday,” that was probably supposed to be a compliment. He had a suit on and a faint smell of scotch hanging over him; the pair had gotten more drinking in than he and Billy had –

_(Why was he thinking of Will as ‘Billy’ again? Was that allowed now?)_

Kate punched Billy lightly in the jaw and he recoiled as though he’d been hit by a pile drive, taking a dramatic fall sideways onto the bench. Billy’s hand ended up on Teddy’s thigh for an instant as he pushed himself up, and he snatched it back quickly.

“I like you already,” Teddy joked, and Kate flashed him a smile.

“So have you two kids patched up your differences?”  Tommy asked, wordless communication passing back and forth between he and Billy when their eyes met.

“I think so,” Billy offered, glancing at Teddy as though for confirmation. “I groveled, he agreed that I was a moron, Kate’s the only one who punched me.”

Tommy tapped two fingers on the table and twitched his eyebrow sideways. Kate looked at something over his shoulder, but Tommy nudged Teddy in the ribs with his elbow when he started to turn to follow her gaze. “Don’t.”

“Sounds like success,” Kate replied. “Good to meet you with all your clothes on,” she said, a bit too loudly.

Billy groaned. “Can we not? How about we just agree to pretend that yesterday morning never happened.”

“I’m good with that,” Teddy replied, distracted by the signals passing back and forth around the table.

Except that he so wasn’t. Even when he’d been angry and hurt, Billy’s arms, shoulders and chest had haunted his dreams.

“Settle up, dude, and let’s get out of here.” Tommy ordered Billy. “The night is young, we got away from Kate’s dad’s golfing buddy’s dumbass party, and this place is entirely too quiet.”

“Where to?” Billy asked, credit card coming out, and Teddy’s opinion was apparently not needed at all.

“Sound,” Tommy declared, pitching his voice differently. Teddy knew that projection trick; it wasn’t far different from a stage whisper. So who the hell was behind him? “They’ve got burlesque on tonight and I wanna hit that.”

“Should I call anyone?” Kate asked quietly, while Tommy was sliding out of the booth, and—Teddy suspected, non-coincidentally—shielding her from view of the room. She already had her phone out, tapping at the screen.

“No,” Billy asked, a pleading note in his voice and a hunted look in his eyes when he looked across the table at Teddy. “Not tonight?”

It wasn’t until they were out on the street, Tommy practically walking into the road to hail a cab, that Teddy finally got a chance to ask the questions burning holes in his tongue. “What was that all about?” he asked Billy, grabbing his arm gently, just enough to make him turn around and face Teddy. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’—I know when something’s a setup.”

Billy made a sour face. “One of TMZ’s usuals was at the bar; Tommy spotted him. He’ll call it in and they’ll show up at Sound, and it’ll be a shitshow.”

The tapping on the table, the offer to call must have been Kate asking if Billy wanted paparazzi on the scene—Teddy was out of his depth, and the easy way the three of them treated the whole scenario just drove that home even more. “So we’re not actually going there,” he hazarded a guess.

“Definitely not,” Kate agreed, sauntering up on Billy’s other side and slipping her arm into his. “Sound’s out for tonight; it’ll be swarmed with photomorons. Awful candid city. Cass says it’s all clear at Lure. You in?” she asked Teddy, regarding him with sharp scrutiny.

He considered saying no, but only for a moment. This was his best chance at getting back in the game, such as it was. He couldn’t back away now. “Sure,” Teddy agreed. “Show me the town.” Billy relaxed, Tommy flagged their cab, and they piled in together, Kate ending up perched happily on Tommy’s lap. “The trick,” Billy said quietly, “is to make sure they only get the shots we want out there.”

“This is a _war_ we’re fighting!” Tommy drawled. “Except half the time, we need the other guys on our side.”

“So how do you manage it all?” Teddy sank back into the vinyl seat, chewing over the last ten minutes in his brain.

“Careful strategy,” Kate suggested.

“A good PR team,” Billy said grudgingly.

Tommy grinned, and his smile was infectious. “Shitloads of alcohol. And a hefty dose of not giving a fuck.”

* * *

_It’s going down, we’re yelling timber-_

Once again, Billy woke up with his mouth tasting like something had crawled inside it and died in the middle of the night. Echoes of the music from the club – _which club? There were a few-_ echoed inside his head, every drum beat adding a flash of nausea. Cracking one eye open gave him location – his bed. And time – mid-morning.

There was another body in the bed with him.

_Ay devla._

As hard as he tried to think back, the end of the night refused to resolve itself into any kind of picture. _I need to stop drinking._

Billy blinked, turned halfway over on his pillow. He had clothes on, his jeans pulling rough against his hips and thighs. The high thread count sheets felt like sandpaper against his skin, the pillow damp in a spot that had to be from drool.

Teddy lay beside him, on top of the covers, his face buried in the pillow and a low, soft snore rising from the heap of blond hair that was all Billy could see. He had his clothes on as well; okay. That made some sense. They had gone out with Tommy and Kate, met some of her friends at the club, got shitfaced, came back, crashed. Chastely.

And now Billy was going to pry himself out of bed, chastely, and once he was done sticking his head in a sink of cold water, he was going to leave the bedroom and completely avoid a repeat of last week.

He only stopped once, halfway across the room, and turned to look back at the bed. One of Teddy’s arms dangled off the edge and his face was smooshed, his lower lip jutting out in a childish pout.

_Nope. Not going there again._

Billy listened to his better instincts for once in his damn life, ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

* * *

 

 **Katiekate**                    FOLLOW

[[Kate’s instagram page. The current photo is an image of Tommy, Billy and Teddy sitting around a small table. The twins’ eating nook is visible in the background, morning light coming through the window. All three men are in casual clothes, and look either exhausted or faintly ill. Billy is clutching a cup of coffee in a death grip. Tommy has Starbucks.]]

102,915 likes

 **katiekate** : The hangover special breakfast club: boyfriend, boyfriend's brother, boyfriend's brother's boyfriend. Not enough coffee in the world.

_view all 549 comments_

**free_wave:** get it gurrrrrrrlll

 **jd432708:** @kade442 dis shld be ussssss

 **twinsfan_omg:** OMG SO HOT. Why can’t I have boys like that at my house for breakfast? I LUV YOU TOM AND WILL!!!!

 **Twins-suck-balls:** So whatr 1 of them is the grl? HAHAHAHA I bet its Will. He looks like he takes dick.

 **twinsfan_omg: @ Twins-suck-balls** get off the internet you stupid creep~ I bet you don’t even know what taking dick means anyway and you’re a big giant poophead

 **Toss-my-salad:** I want to sit on Theos face for six hours

* * *

**Teddy: What the fuck?**

**Kate B: You know how to curse?**

**Billy: Never read the comments. Never.**

**Teddy: I need to bleach my eyeballs.**

* * *

**Will Lehnsherr & Theo Altman are trufax together and being stupidly cute all over L.A.**

By Kingler | Tag: Theo Altman, Will Lehnsherr

Follow on Facebook

 

That's it, gentlemen-loving-gentlemen—you can now feel the ladies' pain. Will Lehnsherr, the 'other one' of those ubiquitous child stars, is hooked up and off the market. These guys ended their teen years richer than God himself, and with their airbrushed pubescent faces staring back at all of us from everything from lunch boxes to every inch of your pre-teen daughters’ bedroom walls.

Yeah, I had the dolls too. So sue me, folks; it was the 2000s and I had a lot of learning to do.

In the four years since their show finally went off the air and into endless loops of after-school syndication hell, Tom (the prankster one) has bleached his hair, started DJing and is hooking up with socialite Kate Bishop.

Will (the goody-goody one you wanted to punch in the face a lot; seriously. He made Elizabeth Wakefield look like a rebel child. Only me? Yeah.) has been making the move into Serious Acting with some solid script choices.

Rumor always had Tom being the party kid and Will as the monk-like recluse, though there were a few whispers along those in the know that he had a boy secreted somewhere for covert visits. Charming, dude. Anyway, whether he's given up his hidden love nest or not, Will's been out and about all over the place in the past month with a new glamour king.

You may not have made it far enough along the posters to recognize his face, but you'd know that caboose for sure. That's _Calvin_ model Theo Altman holding hands with Will in this blurry photo, snapped via cell phone at last week's HollyShorts film festival.

There's Theo and Will again coming out of Boa Steakhouse week before last. Sources told Defamer that they were "holding hands and talking closely all night over their table."

And what's that, you say? Another pap stroll the week before that at Mastro's? 

It's not exactly a stretch to guess that someone's seriously thirsty here. But is it Theo's management, or is Will just happy showing the world that he caught The Abs That Rocked The Cradle?

Management on both sides haven't confirmed anything. Theo's agency replied to our message with the basic 'we don't comment on our clients' personal lives,' while the Lehnsherr camp sent a memo (a memo!) saying that Will and Theo know each other, and asking for privacy.

Sure. Even basic starlets know that Mastro's is a TMZ lair, and when you hit six pap-friendly hot spots in a row, there's a campaign going on.

Now for what it's worth, their body language is screaming 'barely restrained lust'. Take a look at the way Theo's hand is resting on Will's back there and tell me that's not a man thirty seconds away from ducking into a car with tinted windows. And this shot of them kissing in the parking lot outside Bootsy is awww-making adorable. Not gonna lie, I want someone to cup my face like that and stare into my eyes. I could eat them up with a spoon, that’s what I’m saying.

I have so many questions for these men, including how they met and what Tom thinks of all the attention his brother is scooping up, but I'm too busy being charmed to care.

Godspeed, fellas.

* * *

**Billy: Are you doing anything on Saturday night?**

**Teddy: David’s master calendar says no. What’s up?**

**Billy: We got invited to a party—fashion people, film people. Tom’s not going, and I need a +1**

**Teddy: for publicity?**

**Billy: For backup. Some of these people make Emma look like a care bear.**

**Teddy: STARE**

**Billy: come with me?**

**Teddy: sure. Dress code?**

**Billy: Funky formal, whatever the hell that means. I plan to ask Kate.**

**Teddy: sounds like a plan. Think she’ll do me?**

**Billy: I’d use different wording when you ask.**

**Teddy: haha, you funny.**

**Billy: Don’t let my secret out.**

**Teddy: Your dorktastic secrets are safe with me.**

* * *

A car came to pick Teddy up promptly at eleven pm. No, rephrase that; a _freaking town car_ came to pick Teddy up. One with Billy in the back and a driver wearing a suit in the front seat. The driver opened the door for Teddy, waited until he’d slid inside, and then closed it again with a sharp snap of the wrist.

The light stayed on long enough inside for Teddy to get a glimpse of the hopeful, honest smile on Billy’s face, the slim-cut silk shirt that caressed his shoulders and chest, the carefully artificial tumble to his hair, the roguishly arranged waves held in place with gel.

Teddy’s mouth went dry, abruptly and all at once. The last few weeks had been just this side of torture, hanging out with Billy, touching Billy, spotting paparazzi hiding in the bushes and making it look like he was _kissing_ Billy, hands on his face and noses brushing together, Billy’s breath tinged with the faintest hint of mint, and everything about him so sweet-

And so false, and far beyond his actual reach.

So when Teddy did say something, it came out all sarcastic and wry. “Nice car. Couldn’t spring for the stretch limo?”

At least Billy had the grace to look sheepish. “I hate driving,” he confessed. “Especially in L.A. Tommy likes his wheels, but I’d just as soon let an expert deal with the traffic jams and road rage.”

“It’s better than the bus,” Teddy grudgingly allowed. Hs finally got around to pulling on his seatbelt, his fingers brushing lightly against Billy’s as he clipped the end in. Billy’s hand was warm, his skin soft, and just that brief contact sent something elusive and unnamed curling up from the base of Teddy’s spine.

Billy was looking at him; what was he seeing in Teddy’s face in the golden-neon glow of streetlights and store signs that made his smile go all tight and nervous?

“You look good tonight,” Billy offered. “Really good.”

The waistcoat had been David’s idea, something to class up Teddy’s white button-down shirt without resorting to a tie that would choke the life out of him. The charcoal suit had appeared in Teddy’s living room in a fancy bag, the kind of amazing fine wool that Teddy would never have been able to afford on his own, and one that screamed ‘designer loaner’ at the top of its lungs.

He kept all his earrings in, much to David’s vaguely articulated distress, and added coordinating cufflinks for good measure.

Teddy smoothed down the front of the waistcoat nervously. “Thanks. And thank you for inviting me to this. I know you’d probably rather have Tom here-“

“Not a chance,” Billy interrupted him. “He’d be flirting with all the waitresses and planning his escape over the balcony by five minutes in. It’ll be nice to go to one of these with someone who’ll talk to me.”

“And who says I was going to do that?” Teddy teased, relaxing into the plush seat of the fancy car. “I figured I’d get there, chug a beer, flirt with all the waiters, and escape off the balcony while you were still having a cocktail mixed.”

“And this is why we can never be friends,” Billy said solemnly. “No loyalty at all.”

“Welcome to Hollywood,” Teddy snarked, and won a brilliant flash of a grin from Billy in response.

“So what have you been up to this week?” Billy asked, and there was a note of hesitation in his voice that Teddy picked up on right away. They’d had a couple of weeks of practically living in each other’s pockets after they’d smoothed things over, but the life Teddy had been putting off had caught up with him full-force, and all at once.

“Auditions,” he admitted, though the word left a sour taste in his mouth. “They were only slightly better than cattle calls. Imagine twenty of us all shoved into this tiny room, half of them shirtless, all of us sweaty, waiting to be called in to be seen for ‘hot gardener’ on _Rich Housewives._ ”

“I’m imagining,” Billy said reverently.

He caught Teddy’s eye, broke his dreamy stare and burst into shared laughter.

“It wasn’t nearly as much fun as you’re thinking, I promise you.”

“Too bad. Anything else? There must have been something better.”  

Teddy ruminated for a moment, thinking back over the handful of casting call sheets and script pages. “I read for the casting guys at Syfy,” he offered. “It’s more of a pool – they see a bunch of people in the same week and then call you up if they need your type. But the pages were from some piece of crap called ‘ _Pterodactyl Poltergeist_.’”

Billy frowned thoughtfully. “I’d actually watch that.”

“So would I. I just don’t know if I want to be _in_ it.”

“Fair.”

“Could be worse,” Teddy conceded. “It could all be soap operas or wheaties commercials.”

“A lot of guys got their start on soap operas,” Billy reminded him. “Or the Mousketeers.” And he grinned with that sly self-mockery that Teddy had begun to recognize as coming from somewhere deeper inside.

“Cthulhu forbid.” Teddy clutched at his chest and widened his eyes, reaching out for Billy with one trembling hand. “But _Maureen_ …. _what_ about … the _baby??_ ” He snorted and sat up again. “I don’t think I could keep a straight face long enough.”

Billy had started laughing and wiped something away from under one of his eyes. “If that’s your best Shatner, you need to go back to acting class.”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“ _Spoooooooock.”_

“Lame.”

“Khaaaaaaaaan!”

Billy was shaking his fist at the ceiling when the driver opened the door, the car having stopped entirely without their notice. He held the door and stared at Billy impassively. Billy lowered his hand and tugged his shirt back into place.

“Picard maneuver,” Teddy muttered under his breath, and Billy’s shoulders started to shake, his lips twitching with the laughter he was trying to repress.

They were still grinning at each other through the extremely fancy high-rise’s marble lobby, the concierge taking their names and scrutinizing Billy’s ID before waving them through to the banks of elevators.

Teddy studied himself in the mirrored interior wall of the elevator, brushing his bangs forward a little more, then back to where they’d started, then-

“You’re making me crazy,” Billy scolded, stepping between him and the mirror as the elevator continued its rapid ascent. “Here.” He reached up and brushed the offending lock of hair to the side, his fingertips grazing Teddy’s forehead.

That brief touch, only their second tonight, was enough to set Teddy’s pulse racing.

Billy was right there, only an inch or two away, the air between them warm and thick with tension. His eyes were dark brown and warm, pools of hot chocolate or melted bronze, framed with dark lashes. Those quirky, expressive brows of his furrowed, a tiny, perfect line appearing on his golden skin. Billy parted his lips as though to say something, and-

The elevator doors opened, the light reflecting off the mirrors. Teddy turned around, but not fast enough for their intimate pose to be missed by the handful of people already in the hall.

_That’s fine. Gives more credibility to the lie, right?_

Teddy’s cheeks burned hot, just to prove him wrong, and Billy ducked his head, not looking at Teddy as he stepped out of the elevator and led Teddy down the hall toward the open door.

He stepped into a miniature _palace_ , their host’s penthouse decorated for the party like something out of Arabian Nights. Swags of silk and chiffon hung from the ceiling, piles of intricately embroidered and brocaded pillows lay in strategically placed little nests on the floor. Expensively-dressed, perfectly-groomed men and women lounged on divans or mingled at the long bar that stretched across one end of the room, the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far side of the space offering a glittering panorama view of the city below. A door opened up onto a terrace with a fountain and a lush green garden. On a roof!

“Come on,” Billy cupped his hand gently under Teddy’s elbow and steered him toward the bar. “First step, get drinks so we have something to do with our hands. Then I’ll start introducing you around. I only know about half these people myself,” Billy confessed, “maybe less, but I can get you started.”

They’d only barely made it to the bar before the other guy came into view. “You can start with me.”

He was tall, almost as tall as Teddy, but slim like Billy, another beautiful dark-haired boy. That grin was cocky and knowing, though, nothing at all like the shy, intimate smile Teddy sometimes managed to get out of Billy. He was instantly familiar. “You must be Theo,” Brandon Sharpe practically purred, extending a hand. “Brandon. You two have made quite the splash lately.”

Billy bristled, his hand closing a little tighter on Teddy’s elbow before he dropped it and stepped into the triangle that they’d formed. “Brandon Sharpe, Theo Altman. And vice versa.”

“Good to see you again, Will. It sounds like you’ve been having a good year.” Brandon smiled, toothily, and there wasn’t a lot of kindness in his eyes. More like fierce interest, and the kind of intent look Teddy used to see in the opposing center when he played basketball, right before the ref’s whistle blew.

_Similar type, similar look, both child stars –but Brandon was established in the indie scene long before Billy left Disney. Of course they’d be competition._

“Couldn’t be better,” Billy said firmly, and he had his Hollywood Face plastered on so firmly that it would have taken an act of God to make him break character now. “We made a movie I can be really proud of, I’ve got more offers coming in. And my personal life, well-”

Teddy could take a cue. He flagged down a passing waiter and liberated a couple of glasses of wine off his tray, handing one to Billy. Brandon gave Teddy the sort of long, lingering look that made him suddenly wonder if he’d remembered to wear pants, before turning smoothly back to the conversation.

“You must be getting anxious about the nominations,” Brandon continued smoothly, and Billy only shrugged one shoulder. “They announce when, Friday, isn’t it? Gold-derby has you at five-to-one odds for Best Actor.” And Brandon sipped at his drink in a move that looked calculated to show his lips off to best advantage. “Paramount put me up for _Crossfire_ , but you know what a love-hate relationship the Golden Globes have with really _populist_ movies.”

“For what that’s worth.” Billy started, and while his body language screamed ‘totally comfortable,’ something in his voice was tight. “I didn’t realize you were playing such close attention to what I was doing.”

“Worrying about it isn’t going to change anything,” Teddy jumped in, sliding his arm around Billy’s waist, just a bit, and resting his hand on the small of Billy’s back. It looked like a calming, intimate gesture, and had the added benefit of feeling the heat of Billy’s body, and the smooth ripple of the fine silk across his skin. He gave in to temptation, leaning in closer to Billy’s ear. “I can keep you distracted on Friday, if you like.”

Billy turned red, and Brandon, who had been taking a drink, coughed, covered his mouth with the crook of his finger, and stifled another strangled coughing sort of noise.

_Worth it._

“I like him,” Brandon announced. “I don’t suppose you have a brother,” he asked a little too loudly, and a little too… _voice-y_. Teddy glanced over his shoulder, ready this time. _I know what that tone means._ He didn’t recognize the teeny blonde woman in the equally teeny black dress, but she beamed at Brandon and Billy like they were all old friends.

“Aren’t you boys all so gosh-darn _cute_!” she exclaimed, and Teddy could feel his IQ dropping by the nanosecond. _Entertainment reporter. Has to be._ “Brandon, darling.” She rose up on the toes of shoes that were already four inches high in the heel, and air-kissed somewhere in the vicinity of Brandon’s cheeks.

“Will, sweetie.” She followed suit with Billy, grabbing his hands and mwa-ing into the air about four inches from Billy’s ear. “And you’re Theo. Aren’t you something to look at, now? You boys are always all so _neatly_ put together. I don’t know why other men can’t follow your lead.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied automatically, still trying to parse out some of the body language and the protocol while ignoring the innuendo, and she absolutely _beamed_ at something he’d said.

“Ma’am? Oh my _God_ you make me sound so _old_ ,” she fluttered a hand by her chest and sighed. “Though I suppose to you, I must be. Cindy Vanier, on the Fashion!Now! board. But tell me, are you enjoying yourself? This is your first time at this benefit, isn’t it?”

“Yes, m-. It’s a beautiful place,” Teddy tried his best not to add ‘ma’am’ on the end this time, despite the faint traces of crows-feet showing up around the woman’s eyes when she smiled. Makeup and surgery could do a lot, but he’d probably guess her age somewhere around late thirties, early forties? That probably meant sixties at the youngest. “And the company is excellent.” He gave her a warm smile, one that David had told him counted as ‘charming,’ and she beamed.

“Well, you keep on enjoying yourself. And tell your managers, boys; I want to see all three of you in something together, soon. Maybe that Stonewall picture they’re putting together at Centropolis. Or a remake of Angels in America? AIDS is _always_ good box office.” And she vanished into the crowd in a puff of backhanded insults and invisible glitter.

Billy, Teddy and Brandon watched her go.

“So close,” Brandon sighed.

“And yet so, so far.” Billy closed his eyes.

“I’d ask if that was normal, but I don’t think I want to know the answer,” said Teddy.

Brandon made a face and shot back the rest of the contents of his glass in an abrupt move. “Good call.” Then the hint at the real human being underneath was gone. “She’s not wrong, though,” he said silkily. “It would be good to work together sometime.” He was talking to Billy, but his eyes lingered on Teddy. Billy seemed to feel it, and he stepped a little closer, so that Teddy’s arm could sit around his waist completely.

“Sure,” Billy replied, nodding like he maybe meant it. “But no romances or biopics of famous gays. Once we’re pigeonholed that way, we’re screwed.”

“But not literally, sadly.” Someone or something caught Brandon’s eye over Billy’s shoulder, and he glanced away. “If you’ll excuse me—pleasure to meet you, Theo.” And when he laid his hand on Teddy’s shoulder for a moment, it was solid, and his fingers squeezed gently.

“Brandon.”

The Other Gay Former Child Star wandered off in pursuit of some other conversation, and Billy sagged back against Teddy’s arm.

“That bad, hunh?” Teddy asked quietly.

“I really can’t stand that guy.” Billy frowned into his drink, then sighed and seemed to let it go. “It’s not really his fault, I guess? We were supposed to do a movie together, a Goonies kind of thing, back when we were kids. I remember going to these meetings with Tommy and Granddad and Emma that would just go on and on forever.

“Brandon would come with his mom—his manager, which is the worst idea in existence—and she was a serious head case. She was so nuts about changes to his contract that the studio eventually flushed the whole thing. I’ve never seen such a bad case of stage-mom in my life. We’ve been up for the same roles a few times since.”

“That explains why he looked like he was searching for a hole in your armor.” 

“Every worm has a weak spot,” Billy joked, and if Teddy wasn’t already half in love with him, that would have entirely sealed the deal.

“Seriously, though, if you _wanted_ to hang out on Friday, and you weren’t just saying that to make Brandon crazy—which, thank you, because that was _awesome_ —I could probably use the company.” There was that hint of vulnerability again, and as much as it was going to kill him, Teddy couldn’t say no.

“Sure, I’m up for that.” _Hah._ “But do you seriously think you won’t be nominated, after all this attention?”

“Weirder things have happened. Now-” Billy nodded toward a group of people standing not too far away, all business. A wall went up between them that Teddy could feel, practically reach out and _touch_ , but couldn’t see. “Let me start to fill my part of the bargain. I believe I owe you introductions.”

And before Teddy could argue that it wasn’t necessary, that he was happy just being here- ( _David would kill him, because that_ was _the point)_ —Billy was already going. “Movers and shakers, this-a-way.”

* * *

Last call didn’t apply to private parties. Three in the morning and at least a sheet and a half to the wind, Teddy found himself wandering out the glass doors and onto the rooftop patio, trading the overheated, stuffy inside air for the crisp, cool December night. There weren’t any stars here; never were. There hadn’t been in New York either; you needed open country and a black sky for that. But the flickering lights of the city rolling out below had a hypnotic quality all of their own, and Teddy dragged in a deep and bracing breath to steady himself.

He still had a half-full glass in his hand and he set it down on the closest table, stretching his arms up and behind his head to pop out his shoulders, neck, knuckles. Laughter swelled from the crowd inside, chatter rising and falling over the music’s backbeat. He’d shaken hands with more people tonight than in a month’s worth of look-sees, his wallet crammed full of business cards for David to sort through later.

All in all, the party could be counted as a professional success. One more step in the grand plan. But there was only so much schmoozing he could take in one night; only so many air-kisses and ‘how _aaaaaaare_ you, darling?’s he could smile through without a break.

Five minutes to shake the fuzzies out his head and breathe in the quiet, then he would go back in.

Billy wouldn’t even notice. The last Teddy had seen of him, he’d been involved in a tipsy argument with Brandon Sharpe about a script both of them had read for and Teddy had never heard of. That would probably go for a while.

He leaned on the waist-high railing that surrounded the patio, so absorbed in his own head that he didn’t notice that he was no longer alone. Not until a hand fell lightly on his shoulder, the touch familiar and oh-so-welcome—and not, at the same time.

“Hey,” Billy said, the top button of his shirt undone and his hair artfully rumpled, the result of the way he dragged his fingers through it when he was bickering with someone. He’d left his glass somewhere, his hands empty, and he leaned against the railing facing Teddy like he was the complete center of Billy’s attention.

It was a good feeling.

“Hey, yourself.” Teddy shifted so that he faced Billy, the light from the penthouse gleaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and picking out the exquisite sharp angles of Billy’s features. Maybe it was the late hour, the couple of glasses of wine he’d had, or the way Billy’s lower lip curled just so—soft and full, the only soft thing about his face.

Except his eyes. His eyes were soft, warm and brown, everything that Teddy could wrap himself up in and feel like he was home.

And he’d already made the mistake once of getting too close and letting too much of that show. The past couple of weeks had been much better, hanging out with him, being friends, spending time basking in the thrill and the ease of their connection without letting his real feelings slip out.

He wasn’t about to risk losing that again.

“Brandon finally concede to the better man?” Teddy asked instead, keeping the focus off of him and the wicked thoughts that bubbled up whenever he looked too long at Billy’s perfect mouth.

“Hardly,” Billy snorted. “He ran out of steam around the same time they opened up the sushi bar.”

“A man has to have his priorities.”

A short blond hair was sitting on Billy’s shoulder; it looked like one of his. Teddy reached out without overthinking things, and his thumb brushed Billy’s chin when he plucked off the hair and let it float away on the breeze.

Billy turned into the touch, that was the best and worst thing, following the gentle brush of Teddy’s hand like it was instinct, or his fingers were some kind of magnet.

He should pull away, put space back between them, for his own safety and peace of mind if nothing else. But that same magnetic pull kept him rooted to the floor.

“We’re being watched,” Billy murmured, his eyes flickering to the windows and then back quickly enough that few would have noticed. If they hadn’t been staring into his eyes like an idiot, that is.

“Brandon?” Teddy ventured a guess, not daring to look.

“Worse. His mother.” Billy made a face. “The woman’s a monster and a famewhore, and she dogs him worse than any of the tabloids. Sold him out to a few in her time as well.”

“Charming.” Teddy stayed where he was and Billy drifted a step closer. “So if she suspects anything, about you and me, I mean-” He couldn’t take his eyes off Billy, the way the breeze tugged at the tumbled strands of his hair, the faint shadow of stubble starting to creep in along his jaw, the divot at the base of his throat that jumped compulsively when Billy swallowed.

“She’ll take it to the bloggers in a heartbeat,” Billy confirmed. He tipped his head up to keep his gaze locked with Teddy’s. Teddy took a half-step closer, and Billy was practically right up against him, their hips so close they were all but touching. The ache in Teddy’s chest grew, spread, turned to a fire in his blood when it got below the belt-level, because his body was a traitor.

“We’d better look convincing, then,” Teddy murmured, and Billy’s brown eyes had already gone even darker with a very well-acted portrayal of desire. It was a betrayal to do this when Billy didn’t feel the same way, to use the situation to his advantage, but-

“Shut up and kiss me before someone starts reading our lips.”

It was that simple. Billy’s lips parted, his eyes closed and he rose on his toes. He wanted Teddy to kiss him. And Teddy would die if he didn’t.

He stopped trying to hold back. They’d faked this before, hands in strategic places and lips blocked by hair, when there was a photographer at a good angle. But now, no. There was no way to fake this without being discovered. This was different. This was Billy, his face tipped up in the moonlight, the fragrance of a dozen tropical flowers lingering in the cool night air.

Teddy slid his arm around Billy’s narrow waist, splaying his hand flat against the gorgeous curve of Billy’s back.

_Imagine him in front of me, on all fours on the bed, his back curving down just like that, muscles so sweet and tight, ready to take whatever I give him-_

Teddy’s body reacted to the image, the touch, to the swift and brutal press of Billy’s mouth, hard against his. Billy’s lips were as soft as he’d imagined, but there was strength underneath. He didn’t bend or submit, but wrapped his arms around Teddy’s neck and held him in place. Billy kissed _him_ , hard and fierce, and it was all that Teddy could do to hang on and not fall into the black hole of their desire and be lost forever.

His arms locked around Billy’s waist, bodies so close together. Teddy wanted to strip him down there, run his tongue over every inch of Billy’s body. What kind of touch would make him laugh and squirm away, and what would make him gasp, flush pink, arch into Teddy’s hands, his mouth?

He pulled Billy’s hips against his, instinct taking over and the need to hold, to feel skin and muscle and rock hard flesh.

Then, oh God- sanity kicked in.

_I’m hard. He can feel it. Shit._

Teddy dropped his hands and backed off that crucial step, away from Billy just enough that he wasn’t assaulting the man with an unwelcome boner. But he couldn’t leave that mouth, not without one, just one more- He slid his hand into Billy’s hair and Billy leaned into it, not protesting. His lips parted again, kiss-red and gleaming, and when Teddy kissed him again, he returned it with equal force.

This, this, he needed- wanted to pull Billy in again, rock their bodies together, take the friction and the pressure and give Billy something wonderful in return. He wanted- to kiss Billy like this, forever. To drop to his knees and take Billy in his mouth, bring him off as many times as he could. To bend him over the railing and- and-

Teddy stepped back, his breath shuddering out of him in one long heave. Billy stayed where he was, a dazed look in his eyes. He tasted his own lips, as though shocked at what Teddy had done. _Too far, I took it too far. When will I ever learn?_

“That was – wow.” Billy said, shaky. He probably wanted to make sure that Teddy wasn’t going to assault him again. Mrs. Sharpe had long since vanished from the window, and they were safe. Assuming Billy _would_ ever feel safe with Teddy after this.

“Yeah,” Teddy said, his discomfort starting to overwhelm him, shame at the things he’d been imagining.

“Do you think it was enough?” Billy asked, turning so his eyes were unreadable.

 _No_ , Teddy wanted to howl at the moon. _No, it would never be enough, not if we did this the rest of our lives_. But because the penthouse walls were glass and this was a show, he spoke his lines and hit his mark. He tipped his head in to rest his forehead against Billy’s, silhouetted against the moon, an intimate gesture that made his skin tingle and his breath catch.

“We should go back in,” Billy murmured.

“We should.”

And then they did, Billy lacing his fingers through Teddy’s and swinging their hands between them so casually that it hurt.

He would dream about Billy tonight, Billy and his mouth and his long, slim fingers, the weight of him pressed up against Teddy’s chest.

If he was going to be brutally honest with himself, he would dream about Billy. He would fantasize about him as well, furtively and shamefully, his hands beneath the covers so that he didn’t have to face the implications of what he was doing.

And in the morning, everything would be back the way it was. At least for another three months.

It sucked. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you wish for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warning – there is a scene of dubcon sexual behavior (intoxication) in this chapter only. See end notes for more details.**  
> 
> [There is NSFW fanart for this chapter, courtesy of the ever-phenomenal Cris-art! (spoilers!) ](http://tessbowery.com/fic_art/AU_YoungHollywood3.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
>  

Friday should have sucked. Any nomination day did when Billy or Tommy had been put up for something, even when it was such a long shot as to be impossible. And even then – People’s Choice, MTV, all the kid-level stuff… it was peanuts compared to the Golden Globes. Kate hadn’t helped, rattling off statistics at him about the repeat nomination slates and how many Globe winners actually went on to get Oscars—at least until Billy had kicked both her and Tommy out of the condo so he wouldn’t have to listen to it anymore.

It should have sucked, been a nail-biter day pretending to read scripts or going to the gym and always, always with one ear open waiting for the phone to ring. But this time, Teddy was over, and that made everything okay.

No, not _everything_. The party last week had proved that. He could still feel the pressure of Teddy’s mouth on his lips, the way he’d tasted, the way their bodies had locked together, almost as if Teddy had meant it all.

_That guy could have chemistry with a bowl of fritos,_ Brandon had said that night, staring hungrily at Teddy across the room. Billy had said – what? Something snide that he couldn’t remember now, but Brandon wasn’t wrong.

When Teddy had turned the full force of his charms on Billy half an hour later, he’d been completely powerless to resist. If there had been any sane way to say ‘fuck everything I said before, take me to bed right now,’ he probably would have done it.

(If he and Teddy hadn’t already been through the drama, he probably would have tried anyway.)

But he wasn’t that kind of creep, not after they’d had the ‘just friends’ talk, not even after feeling what had to have been Teddy’s cock, pressing hard against Billy’s hip. But it had been just another sex scene, this time without camera crews, and given the way they’d kissed anyone would have reacted. It didn’t mean that Teddy felt any differently.

It was a good excuse, anyway. Something to explain the way Billy’s body had reacted, too. And then when he’d come home, alone in his room, he’d jerked himself off to the memory of Teddy’s lips, his hands, the solid pressure of his hard dick through too many layers of clothes.

_Not_ something he was ever going to admit to the guy currently sprawled out on the floor of Billy’s condo, his perfect lips ( _tasted of red wine, his kiss desperate and possessive-)_ moving silently as he read over script pages for an audition.

Teddy had shown up not long after Tommy and Kate had bailed out, a bag slung on his back and his low-slung jeans loose around his hips—to keep Billy company, like he’d promised.

And right now Billy was _supposed_ to be reading through the stack of scripts that Emma had very pointedly left for him the other day, a sarcastic post-it note stuck to the top. He had the first one open, which was a step in the right direction, but he’d spent a whole lot more of the last ten minutes staring at the way Teddy’s t-shirt stretched across the muscles of his back than actually reading _anything_.

_God, he’s beautiful._

Teddy rolled over, as if he felt Billy’s eyes on him, and Billy hurriedly looked back down at the script open in his lap, his cheeks _not, dammit, **not**_ getting warm in embarrassment.

“How’s it going?” Teddy asked, rising smoothly to his feet like he’d been doing yoga his entire life, fluid and relaxed. “Any of them any good?”

“Eh,” Billy shrugged, trying to feel as casual as he was pretending to be. _Acting!_ “Not so far. How about you?”

“I think I’ve got the lines down.” Teddy flopped on the far end of the couch, the pile of scripts between them. “I’m not sure why they think _I’m_ a good choice to play a former street kid, but the character is cool.” He set the pages down beside him, _EVOLUTION INK_ running across the header beside the various names and NDA notes. “And they apparently need to recast this quickly, so maybe they’ll be desperate enough to take me.” He laughed, like he was joking, but there was a note of something wistful underneath it.

“They’d be idiots not to.” It wasn’t just a platitude; Billy had looked over the pages when they’d run lines earlier, and he could see it— that moment when Teddy sank down into the character and _changed_. Some actors were there to say lines and look good, but Teddy … he shifted somehow, his whole body folding in on itself to _become_ the scared, lonely teenager written on the page. He was a lot better than Billy would have guessed, originally.

But Billy had been wrong about a whole lot of things.

“As David keeps reminding me, shit happens, and it’s not always about me. Casting decisions are more like weird auguries made with chicken entrails.”

“That, and nepotism,” Billy laughed, a tinge of bitterness creeping in. “Case in point.”

“Don’t be dumb. I’ve seen your movies,” Teddy dismissed his complaint with a wave. “Maybe at first, sure, but you’re one of the few, the proud, the child stars with actual talent.”

“I’ll tell Tommy you said so.” Teddy made as if to hit him with one of the fancy throw pillows Kate’s decorator had insisted on, and Billy flung up his arms to ward him off, laughing. “Okay, uncle. Now if you’re going to be a pain, help me weed through these.”

Teddy picked the first script off the pile and settled in, cross-legged against the arm of the couch. “What am I looking for?”

“A half-decent story?” Billy frowned, trying to sift through his scattered notions of what made for a good choice. “Something that – quote unquote – ‘plays to my strengths.’ Sadly, I have no idea what those are.”

Teddy looked like he was about to say something, but he grinned instead, the tips of his ears going pink, and he looked down at the script in his lap. After a moment, he looked up again. “You said no more period pieces, right?”

“Yeah — not right away, anyway. I don’t want to be a cravat-guy for the next ten years.”

“Okay, because this one starts off contemporary, but, like, three pages in it turns into a Victorian flashback thing. Could be cool.”

“But probably not.” Billy flipped through a handful of pages in the one he’d been trying to read for the last half hour, and scowled.

“What’s that one?”

“Teen road trip comedy.” Billy chewed on his bottom lip. “It’s a departure from my previous work,” he offered up into the silence. “Mostly.”

“If you want to go from serious drama to straight-to-dvd fodder.”

Billy nodded, flipping to the end reluctantly. “ _Tommy_ can do funny. I’m not funny,” he admitted.

“Oh, you’re funny. Just not ha-ha funny.”

Billy kicked Teddy’s leg and Teddy snorted with laughter before picking up the next script.

“Coming out drama,” he announced a few minutes later. “Bet you ten bucks someone gets kicked out of their house, and someone else overdoses. There’ll be a heartwarming ‘now we all understand each other’ ending.”

Billy groaned aloud. “No bet. Hard pass.” _FREEZE FACTOR_ said the label on the next one, and he opened the cover dubiously. “Oooh.”

Teddy looked up. “Oooh?”

“Oooh. Spy movie, new franchise.”

Teddy cocked an eyebrow and Billy made a face. “What? I could totally do a spy movie.” He steepled his fingers like a gun, tucked and rolled off the couch. “Bum-ba-da-bum-bum-bum-bum…” He peeked up over the couch arm to see Teddy breaking into peals of laughter. “The name is Lehnsherr,” Billy announced from his crouch, doing his best Action Face. “ _Will_ Lehnsherr.”

“It’s catchy.”

“Thank you.” Billy picked himself off the floor and dusted off his jeans before collapsing back into his corner of the couch. The grin still lingered on Teddy’s face, any caution or hesitation between them long gone.

“Is it any good?” Teddy asked. “That’s the main thing.”

“I’ll have to read it and find out.”

A minute or two of silent reading passed, then Teddy glanced up, the motion catching Billy’s eye. “So is that why you use your grandfather’s name?” Teddy asked. “You’ve got a different one on your voice mail; I assume that’s your real surname.”

“For non-work legal stuff, yeah.” Billy nodded, that same old sense of vaguely world-weary fatigue creeping in around the edges at the question. “Part of it’s the recognition,” he admitted. “As much as I hate it sometimes, being a Lehnsherr gets me places I probably would never see on my own.”

He paused, then shrugged. In for a penny- “And Maximoff apparently codes as ‘too ethnic’. European Jewish is fine, but once you add Rroma in the mix casting directors hit the eject button. Tommy keeps talking about switching back to Maximoff officially and then writing a big exposé, but it’s not like it’s news.”

A faint look of surprise flickered across Teddy’s face. _I guess he didn’t google-stalk me that deeply after all._ The twins’ ancestry wasn’t exactly _secret_ , though it didn’t get mentions in their official bios. The fan sites were all over it, of course.

“Your dad?” Teddy guessed, hesitating.

Billy shook his head. “Nope. Our grandmother, mom’s mom. Dad’s gadje. Goyisher. All white.” And that was a whole ‘nother can of worms that he didn’t want to open. But – yeah. Teddy was going there.

“You don’t talk about him at all,” Teddy asked, and his eyes were warm with compassion, not hard-edged searching out gossip. That was all right, then. Teddy’s dad had died when he was a kid, hadn’t he? At least that’s what his official bios had said. It made sense Teddy would be curious.

“There’s not much to say,” Billy shrugged it off. He looked up, not letting himself hide in the words in front of him the way he’d always done. “He left when Tommy and I were really little—still just babies. He’s remarried, lives somewhere on the East Coast with his new family. Another set of twins, I think. But we’re not in touch.”

Teddy didn’t say anything, just… reached out and took Billy’s hand, squeezing it gently as though to say ‘I get it. I understand.’ And that— yeah.

Billy squeezed back, and he let himself fall into Teddy’s eyes, the blue so clear and so warm, accepting and understanding, that Billy could live forever in the peace they brought. Teddy might only be here because he needed something from Billy—and that thought was like a cold bucket of water over Billy’s head—but in this, at least, he was being a friend.

The phone rang. Imperial march.

Billy snapped his head around and stared at his cell, the phone doing a happy little vibro-buzz-dance across the glass-topped coffee table. _JADIS_ flashed on the call-display screen.

Emma.

Teddy squeezed his hand, tight. “You going to answer that?”

Billy nodded slowly. He reached out and took the phone, the weight of it suddenly heavy in his hand. He swiped the dancing answer icon and let out a long, slow breath.

“Emma? It’s Billy. You’re on speaker and Theo is here.”

Teddy squeezed his hand harder, fingers curling around Billy’s. _Theo is here_. Billy wasn’t waiting alone, fingernails chewed down to the quick.

“Then I’ll be succinct,” Emma’s clipped voice was tinged with good humor, and that could mean only one thing. “ _Vere Street_ is up for five. You're on the list for Best Actor in a Drama for Thomas. Congratulations.”

Billy’s heart stopped. That was it, he was dead. He wasn’t going to go to the Globes because he would be buried in the family plot. Did they have a family plot? Emma was still talking.

“It's a high-powered field this year, so don't rest on your laurels yet. I'm setting up a meeting with your team for tomorrow to map out our continuing strategy. And Theo-” Emma paused, and while Teddy turned vaguely pale, Billy could hear the faint approval in her voice. “Get a tuxedo that fits properly. I'll send David the names of some designers actually worth the effort.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Teddy replied in what sounded like a reflex, his eyes wide and startled.

“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.” The line went silent; Emma had hung up.

The phone—he put the phone down on the coffee table, his other hand still locked tight around Teddy’s. A moment of silence passed.

“Oh my _God._ ” Billy said reverently. He was in private, he didn’t have to be cool and stoic here. With his free hand, he punched the air, the giddiness surging up inside. “ _Yes!_ ”

“I _knew_ it,” Teddy cheered, hauling on Billy’s hand and drawing Billy across the couch and into a rough, brief hug. Teddy thumped on Billy’s back then let him go, his eyes dancing and alight. “Told you you’d get it. Clear the space for your trophy shelf, Bee.”

“That’s awesome,” Billy said reverently, sinking down to sprawl on the floor at Teddy’s feet, his back against the couch. “Holy shit.” His phone buzzed and he grabbed it without thinking.

**Tommy: Anything?**

**Billy: Best Actor, Drama.**

**Tommy: FYEAH.**

**Tommy: and, b/c I’m your brother, _sellout._**

**Billy: love you too**

**Tommy: I dare you to do the red carpet as Dr. Franknfurter**

**Billy: I’ll tell everyone I’m you**

**Tommy: Kate says ‘WOOOOOOO’, also, ‘thigh-highs’**

**Billy: hate you both, see you tomorrow. War council @ Emma’s office.**

**Tommy: we who are about to die salute you.**

 

By the time Billy had gotten rid of his brother, texted their mom and Uncle Pete and set his phone to silent, Teddy was halfway across the room, rummaging around in his backpack. He stood up a moment later, holding a bottle of champagne triumphantly.

“You brought champagne?” Billy couldn’t help the incredulous tone in his voice as he struggled to his feet, much less gracefully then Teddy had done earlier. “You were awfully sure.”

“Call it confidence in you.” Teddy flashed those gorgeous eyes at him again, and Billy melted inside. “Do you have glasses?”

“No, but I wear colored contacts sometimes-” Billy’s brain caught up with his mouth and his cheeks flushed hot.

Teddy’s look of confusion turned to amusement and he patted Billy on the head as he passed by, en route to the kitchen. “You stay there and be flustered—I’ll find what I need.”   

_Golden Globes. Doing the red carpet walk with Teddy. It’s been a couple of years since I was up for anything, and that was Kids’ Choice stuff. This is the big time._

“Gimme a minute. My brain has gone offline.”

“I noticed.” Teddy moved around the tiny kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers until he found two glasses and a corkscrew to help pry the cork from the bottle. He unwound the cage with the ease of experience and worked the cork loose over the sink with his thumbs.

The _pop_ shook Billy out of his stunned half-trance, and he managed a smile at Teddy when Teddy pushed the full flute of sparkling wine into his hand. “Wow,” he said. And, “thank you.”

“To you, and a long and magnificent career.” Teddy clinked his glass against Billy’s, sending bubbles rushing to the surface in both of the flutes.

“To sheer dumb luck,” Billy countered quickly, just in case Teddy had jinxed something. The champagne was decent—it went down smooth, the bubbles bouncing around inside his nose. Warmth hit him a minute later, spreading through him and tickling his insides. They’d missed lunch, he briefly remembered. Drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea.

“We should order something,” Billy suggested, waving generally toward the phone. “Get dinner. Drink more champagne.”

Teddy didn’t seem in the mood to argue, still beaming at Billy with what looked weirdly like pride. “Any requests?”

“Anything but pizza. And don’t order the party platter from the sushi place down the street. Tommy did that once and it came with a dime bag of coke hidden under the tray. Apparently ‘party platter’ was code.”

“The lifestyles of the rich and famous.”

“Hardly.” Billy drained the glass, though, that familiar and peaceful warm-and-floaty tingling sensation following the champagne through his body.

_I drink too much._

Sometimes it was better than dealing with life. Easier, anyway.

_I don’t think that’s a good sign._

But Teddy hung up the phone, then, dinner order placed, and he was holding out the bottle to refill Billy’s glass. It would be rude to turn it down, when Teddy had brought it specifically to celebrate _him._ So Teddy poured and Billy drank, and everything was right with the world.

* * *

“Have you ever?”

Billy had to blink a couple of times to focus on the question. They’d started out eating at the table, but then Teddy had remembered something he’d wanted to show Billy from YouTube, which meant bringing the takeout boxes over to the couch so they could see the tv. And now they were sprawled out on the floor, Teddy clicking his chopsticks at Billy, the bottle of champagne empty and another bottle of wine open that Billy had found in the back of the fridge.

What was he thinking about?

Teddy had asked a question.

“Have I ever what?” Billy frowned.

Teddy tossed the disposable chopsticks into his empty box, stood up with exaggerated slowness, and flopped down on the couch behind Billy’s head. “Cocaine. You know, like in the sushi.”

“It wasn’t in the sushi, it was _under_ the sushi.” The distinction was important. “No? Yes. No. I did but I don’t.”

Teddy cocked his head to one side. “Come again?”

“Once, to see what the big deal was. Someone’s always carrying something at parties.”

“And?”

Billy swallowed back the guilt and topped up his almost-empty wine glass. It wasn’t warming him up anymore, but his brain was all fuzzy and soft at the edges and nothing was bothering him at all. He clambered slowly up onto the couch and ended up sitting on one of Teddy’s feet. Teddy wiggled his toes and Billy sat on him harder. “I can see why people get so hooked,” he confessed. He had—the rush had been like nothing else. For a moment, he’d been invincible. “Better to stop while I’m ahead. I can’t afford to lose the brain cells.”

“Speaking of losing brain cells.” Teddy rolled halfway over, his leg grinding up against Billy accidentally, and he snagged the wine bottle to refill his own glass. “Cheers again.” The wine sloshed around the rim when Teddy thrust the glass out toward him. “To a long and glorious career, and many more shiny statues for your trophy case.”

“And to you,” Billy agreed, his head all warm, fizzy as the champagne, and no longer in control of the words coming out of his mouth. “And indie films, and horror films and at least one where you take all your clothes off so I can see your dick.”

Oops. Had that been out loud? That was a bad thing to say. He’d blurted it out, and the look on Teddy’s face was really, _really_ funny. Billy started to laugh, and his face was hot. Probably from the wine, because he was hella fried.

“If you wanted to see my dick, all you ever had to do was ask,” Teddy said, and Billy had to be hallucinating, because that didn’t sound right at all. Teddy was a friend, and he and Billy were using each other for work, and that was all there was to it.

But Teddy was hot, and he was sitting on Billy’s couch, and he was looking at Billy’s lips all hungry, like he wanted another one of those kisses that had kept Billy hard as nails for half an hour afterward.

“Show me then,” Billy taunted, because of course he wasn’t going to. “Money where your mouth is, supermodel.” It was safe to tease, safe to joke, because Teddy would never-

Teddy rose up on his knees and started to unbuckle his belt, making Blue Steel faces all the while. The laugh grabbed Billy again and he couldn’t stop. Not until Teddy had actually pulled his belt out of the belt loops on his jeans and twirled it in the air beside him, humming ‘Patricia the Stripper.’

“Maybe I should ask if they’re doing another Magic Mike sequel,” Teddy laughed. “You think I could make it as a dancer?”

Billy couldn’t speak, his tongue thick in his mouth. He scrambled to get up on his own knees and get his feet under him, instead of cross-legged and giving himself pins and needles. “You’re actually- you don’t have to- I was joking,” he finished sadly, because Teddy already had his hands at the hem of his t-shirt. His golden hair swept across his forehead, this beautiful prince, and he thought they were friends hanging out, when the only thing Billy wanted in the world was to kiss him again.

Teddy stopped, then, and let go of the hem of his shirt. Uncertainty crossed his face, and a light in his eyes died. “Oh,” he said, and “oh” again. His cheeks flushed red, whether from the alcohol or because he was embarrassed, Billy couldn’t tell.

Shit. He’d hurt Teddy’s feelings, and all because of this stupid, ridiculous lie he was telling himself.

“That’s a lie,” he confessed. “Not, I mean – you don’t _have_ to. But I do want to see you. You have no idea how hot you are, do you? Or maybe you do. You’re a _model_.”

“I’m just Teddy,” Teddy said, and that was true too. His voice was strangled, and Billy followed his gaze down, down to… Billy’s crotch. 

Billy was hard; he knew _that_ already. He burned, all the blood in his body leaving heated trails along his nerves as it raced to fill his dick. His jeans bulged, tight against his skin, his skin too tight across his muscles.

And unless Billy was a whole lot drunker than he thought he was, Teddy was suffering in the same way. It figured. He was a hot guy and probably really used to getting laid all the time, except now Billy had killed his whole social life. He’d be having the worst dry spell ever.

“Are you turned on right now?” Billy asked, moving closer. Teddy stretched his arm out along the back of the couch and stayed where he was. Billy leaned in. Teddy’s breath caught.

Billy kissed him. Not for show, or because someone was watching, but just because he fucking _wanted_ to, here on his couch, alone in the condo, with the most beautiful man he had ever known.

Teddy’s hands sank into his hair and Teddy kissed him back, hungry and raw. It was just like at the party, teeth and tongue and a driven desperation that made Billy groan low in his throat.

He wasn’t thinking, brain totally offline. All he cared about was getting his hands under Teddy’s shirt, feeling skin against his skin for the first time in a year, flattening his palms against the muscle—oh God, his _muscles—_ under Teddy’s clothes.

Teddy yanked at Billy’s shirt, and something tore. Billy didn’t care, hauling it the rest of the way over his head and diving right back in for more hands, mouths, chest against chest. He straddled Teddy’s lap and ground himself down against Teddy’s hard-on, their dicks sliding rough against each other, muted by the intervening layers of denim. Billy sucked on Teddy’s tongue, Teddy’s hands pushed under Billy’s waistband and cupped his ass, squeezed and stroked and slid one finger down between Billy’s cheeks.

He was going to die if he didn’t do something more. His brain was literally going to explode out through his dick from sheer frustration.

Billy bit down on Teddy’s lower lip, plump and firm between his teeth. Teddy gasped, his hips pushing up and grinding against Billy’s in something more like desperation than anything sweet. “Fuck,” Billy groaned into Teddy’s mouth. “Fuck, I need-“

He didn’t wait for an answer, just slid down Teddy’s body to kneel on the floor between his legs. Teddy half-sat up, his hair a tumbled, tangled mess, his chest and stomach a god-damned work of sculpture. Billy fumbled with the buttons on Teddy’s jeans, pushed them open.

Teddy’s dick was hard, thick, huge—at least from Billy’s perspective—and his briefs were soaked through in spots, wet from pre-come. The smell of lust and sex hit Billy full-force when he ducked his head, pressed his lips against Teddy’s hard-on through the soft grey cotton.

Teddy lurched, arched, gasped again, his hands resting on Billy’s shoulders, then his head, then pushing down against the couch cushions as Billy mouthed him through his underwear.

“Wait. Billy, this isn’t what you want.” Teddy’s sounds resolved into words and Billy sat up. He braced himself, one arm on either side of Teddy’s legs, his head hanging. Teddy was splayed out underneath him, Billy could see how turned on he was, it didn’t have to be a declaration of love, or of ownership-

“It is. I know,” he begged, not looking Teddy in the eyes. “I know it’s not real. Just for tonight, can’t we pretend?”

A sound ripped out of Teddy, halfway between a moan and a sob, and he cradled Billy’s face in his hands. His thumb traced a soft line against Billy’s lower lip.

Billy opened his mouth and drew him in. He sucked Teddy’s thumb, curled his tongue around the top like it was a dick, his fingers digging painfully into the cushions of the couch. Within seconds Teddy’s hips were jerking in time to Billy’s mouth.

Naked, naked, naked- clothes were digging into his skin, too much and too hot. Billy shoved his own jeans down his thighs, stroked his dick up and out of his briefs.

Teddy’s went next, now that Billy wasn’t in agony from the pressure, and even with the white elastic of his underwear nestled down beneath his balls, his dick was pornographic in its perfection.

Teddy shook when Billy put his lips to the head of Teddy’s dick. He tasted like he smelled, of clean sweat and sex, and Billy sank down on him as low as he could, sucked, his lips stretching to fit around Teddy’s width. He was full, moving on Teddy and giving him something, making him feel good, showing him how badly Billy wanted him.

Teddy’s hands were on his face again and guiding him. Billy wrapped his free hand around his own dick and jerked himself, his fist tight and fast around his hard-on. Teddy held him in place and thrust up into his mouth, rougher than Billy expected, pushing in and breaking him open.

He was so close to coming, right on the edge, Teddy inside him and the friction as fucking _perfect_ as Billy could make it.

Pushing deep into Billy’s mouth, Teddy made that sob-groan sound again and he was coming down Billy’s throat all at once, salt-sour and hot. Billy swallowed around him, again and again, come on his lips, in the corner of his mouth, flooding his tongue.

_Billy_ came a second later, lightning coursing through him and pulsing out of his dick. Hot, wet, sticky- he came over his own hand, shirtless and kneeling, his lips and throat sore and bruised, his head pounding.

Tears stung the corners of Billy’s eyes as the wave of his orgasm slowly ebbed. His cheek lay against Teddy’s muscled thigh, Teddy’s dick getting softer, still half-in Billy’s mouth. He swallowed his spit and the last traces of Teddy’s come, and let go. Teddy lay there, arms back over his head and his knuckles white on the cushion behind him. He stared at the ceiling and didn’t look down.

“I- uh. Cleanup.” Billy stammered. The happy buzz was gone, in its place a thick goopy fog of dread. Everything hurt- his hair where Teddy had gripped and tugged, his throat, his knees from the friction of the carpet- and the vast, gaping chasm in the middle of his chest. Because Teddy didn’t look at him at all.

Billy hauled up his jeans and stumbled to his room. A few minutes in the bathroom. Sober up. He splashed cold water on his face, rinsed out his mouth, found a clean washcloth. Tucked his softened dick back into his pants.

Then he carefully, gingerly sat down on the edge of the bathtub, and sank his head into his hands. Waited for the world to stop spinning, and the nausea to settle.

That had not been good. That had been the opposite of good.

Teddy’s face had been wet, like there had been tears.

But Teddy had held his head down, pushed inside; he hadn’t said no. He hadn’t stopped, just said – wait.

Billy hadn’t waited at all. And Teddy had been rough, angry and upset.

_This isn’t what you want_

_I know this isn’t real_

Billy’s mouth tasted like bile.

_Can’t we pretend?_

A door slammed.

Billy raced out of the bathroom, almost tripping over the hem of his jeans, but he was too late.

The condo was empty.

Teddy was gone.

* * *

Teddy held back the tears in the elevator on the way down, running his fingers through his hair so that it didn’t look like he’d just come from… _that_. He didn’t cry when he waited for the cab, or even on the ride home as the nausea crawled up from his stomach and tried to choke him.

No, he managed to hold it all in until the door of his apartment was locked behind him, the traffic and street noises muffled a world away. Then the alcohol and the shame and the hurt forced their way up and out.

He made it to the bathroom in time, hugged the toilet until the flood of bile stopped and his abs ached, his eyes watering and his throat raw. His mouth tasted sour and horrible, champagne mixed with his dinner, and good luck being able to eat fried rice again any time soon.

The tile was cool under his knees, the porcelain of the toilet cold against his face, the world everywhere else spinning so far out of control that standing up seemed like a terrible idea.

_I know it’s not real_.

The words ripped him apart, saw-toothed blades dragging along the ribs around his heart.

_Let’s pretend. Just for tonight._

_Why_ had he gone along with it?

Because he’d wanted Billy, just once.

Even though Teddy was nothing more than convenient. Billy had been excited, drunk, horny, thrilled with his victory– and Teddy had been in reach. An escort in all but name before. Now he was one for real.

_Just for tonight._

That was the final blow. He’d sold his body to Billy and his management, along with his time and his image – because what else was Teddy good for?

Arm candy. Media bait. A poster to hang on the wall, an airbrushed gym-rat boy toy to be wank material for God knows who… tonight had been the natural extension of his deal with the devil.

For a moment, just one, it had felt real. Like Billy actually wanted _him_ , instead of just the nearest available man. Looking down and seeing Billy’s lips stretched around his cock, the wild and needy look in his eyes, feeling the sweet-hot slide of his tongue -

God, he was getting hard again just remembering, and that was the worst. Because he’d wanted, so badly, and then for a moment it seemed like he would finally have Billy for himself.

But it had been all wrong. He’d been angry, sunk his hand into Billy’s hair and held him there, giving over to the drive to _claim_ and _take_ and make himself part of Billy in a way he wouldn’t be able to ignore or forget.

Billy couldn’t get away from him fast enough, after. He’d run to wash Teddy out of his mouth and off his body.

Teddy was worse than a cheap whore—he’d just done the casting couch, maybe even bordering on assault, and hadn’t even realized it until everything was over and horrible.

He needed a shower, a hot one, to scrub off every layer of skin and in the process forget the feel of Billy’s hands, his mouth, everything about his touch, voice and smell.

When he had the energy to get up.

Then he’d go.

Something buzzed against Teddy’s ass, and he fumbled behind him without opening his eyes. His phone screen lit up bright, too bright in the dark bathroom, burning Teddy’s eyes.

_Billy_ said the caller ID.

Calling to yell at him, probably. To give Teddy shit for being rough, for fucking Billy’s mouth the way he had, for taking this whole thing way too seriously.

He swiped the call to the trash without thinking and flushed the toilet to drown out the sound.

His phone buzzed again, insistent and loud.

Teddy’s shoulders heaved, the thought of talking to Billy now too much, too… anything. What would he say? What was there to say at all? Teddy had fucked up. He had taken something easy and turned it into something awful, and there was no going back.

He was too damn drunk to talk to Billy right now. Drunk, angry, hurt, ashamed, a mess of feelings that he couldn’t even begin to name. Fumbling with his phone without looking, he mashed buttons until the buzzing stopped.

It only lasted a moment before it started again. Teddy groaned, his forehead pressed against the top of the toilet seat. This time he hit ‘answer’ without even looking. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you,” he growled before closing the call, finding the mute button and dropping the phone to the floor.  

He found the muscle strength a minute later to push himself up. He stood under the shower long enough for the hot water to beat some sense back into his whirling brain, then headed for the sweet release of bed – and sleep.

He left his clothes and towel in a sodden pile on the bathroom floor, the phone there beside them.

The screen flashed on again, but there was no-one there to see it.

_Billy. Missed call x 1._

_David_. _Missed call x 3._

* * *

“Teddy, open the door.” David paused, waited ten seconds, then knocked again. There was no answer from the other side. He looked at his watch. Twenty-six minutes since the weird butt dial phone call and hang up, twenty-four since Teddy had told him to go away, and twenty minutes since Teddy had stopped answering the phone at all. Something had gone very wrong.

He waited another few seconds, then used his key to unlock the apartment door and head inside. The lights were off, and that plus the darkness outside made seeing detail difficult. “Teddy?”

The faint tang of puke hung in the air. Charming. Teddy had been wasted more times since starting to hang out with the Lehnsherrs than he ever had before. That was a bad sign. If he was lucky it was still alcohol and not anything harder, though nothing that David had seen suggested the twins were involved in any kind of serious substance abuse.

He’d done the research.

“In here.” Teddy’s voice came from his bedroom, and David followed without hesitation. He did stop for a moment to drop his bag and jacket on Teddy’s couch, before heading through the partly open door.

Teddy sat on the windowsill, his knees pulled up to his chest, dressed in a pair of ratty sweats and an old t-shirt that hung loose on his shoulders. Curled in like that he didn’t look anything like the brash, confident model that David had signed—he looked like the kid he was: lost, tired, lonely and scared.

That same old ache started deep inside, the urge to protect, to build walls up around the two of them and keep Teddy for himself—to keep out the ravenous hordes that would tear him limb from limb if there was any profit to be found in it for themselves.

The irony of his ten-percent wasn’t entirely lost on him.

“What happened?” he asked instead, crossing the room to lean against the wall beside the window. He folded his arms, and waited.

“Why are you here?” Teddy looked at him for the first time. His eyes were red, not quite bloodshot, the streetlight outside picking out bits and pieces of that picture-perfect face.

“You butt-dialed me,” David said simply. “And now you’re not answering your phone. I came over to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Not dead,” Teddy reported, a faint ghost of a smile appearing on his lips, just for a moment. “Dumb, but not dead.”

_You’re not dumb-_ That was what he wanted to say, but experience had already shown him that it was better to wait Teddy out. He’d talk if he didn’t feel pushed.

So David waited.

“I did something.” Teddy started to say, then he shook his head firmly. “No, it wasn’t just me. I’m not taking all the blame for it. But Billy and I—”

“You slept together.” David wanted the words back the moment he’d said them, but Teddy didn’t object. He settled his chin on his bent knees, and David’s stomach turned over.

“We messed around,” Teddy offered, in what sounded like a compromise. “Emma called him – he got the nomination for best actor. We had champagne, got stupid. I don’t think either of us meant for it to happen.” His voice got soft and tired. “But it did, and things went sideways, and- I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

The pain reverberated through his voice, echoed in the defeated slump of his shoulders, the red rims around his eyes. David’s heart ached along with Teddy, a lump in his throat that even empathy couldn’t fully explain away.

“I should never have agreed to the contract in the first place,” David said firmly. He laid his hand carefully over Teddy’s, and Teddy squeezed his fingers in return. “I’ll fix everything with Emma. You focus on getting your head on straight, and I’ll take care of everything.”

“David, don’t—”

The anger flared then, finding cracks in David’s shield of logic and careful planning. Will Lehnsherr had hurt Teddy. Whatever else had happened between them, that much was absolutely clear. “Whatever career benefits Lehnsherr can give you don’t compare to your sanity. We had a backout clause, and as far as I’m concerned, the deal’s off.”

Teddy flopped against the window frame, tipping his head back to rest against the wood. He squeezed his eyes tight, and squeezed David’s hand tighter before he let go. Relief, perhaps, or more guilt? It was hard to say just yet.

“Maybe I should go back home for a while,” Teddy said, resigned and quiet. “It would be nice to hang out with my mom again.”

“Christmas and New Year’s?” David offered. “If you can make it another few weeks, that is. I’ll make sure not to book you for any auditions, you can go home and clear your head.”

Teddy nodded slowly, without opening his eyes. His arms stayed tightly wrapped around his knees, bundling them up to his chest like a shield against the cruelty of the world.

David rested his hand on Teddy’s shoulder for a moment. _Let me be the strength you need._ “I brought my bag. I’ll be on the couch if you need me for anything. And no more drinking tonight—the last thing you need is alcohol poisoning.”

Teddy nodded, not even cracking a smile.

* * *

Teddy’s couch was reasonably comfortable as far as emergency crash space went, and thank everything that David held dear, Teddy neither drank himself into a stupor nor seemed to be suffering any major ill effects the next morning. Other than the inevitable champagne headache, of course. David had silently handed Teddy a couple of aspirin and a cup of coffee for _that_ when Teddy emerged from his bedroom the next morning.

This wasn’t the sort of position David enjoyed finding himself in, babysitting talent while they quietly self-destructed, but it wasn’t exactly unheard of. And right now, while Teddy was locked in the bathroom with the shower running full-steam, David had cleanup to do. Email to Emma, a note to the photographer’s assistant at CK, replying to the handful of phone calls about scheduling…

Forgotten on the coffee table, where David had carelessly set it the night before, Teddy’s cell phone began to ring.

_Billy_ , the call display proclaimed.

The shower kept running; Teddy hadn’t heard it. Impulsively, David grabbed the phone and shoved it under the couch cushion to muffle the sound.

It stopped a moment later, with no reaction at all from the bathroom, and when David pulled the phone out again, the screen simply read _1 new message. 4 unheard messages._

David knew Teddy’s code—he’d been the one to set it up. The shower still drummed steadily against the tub behind the locked bathroom door.

He had a moment to take care of this.

The first message was a saved one from him with times and dates for meetings- that one David ignored. Then the second one, timestamped just before Teddy had called David the night before. Will Lehnsherr’s voice sounded as wrecked as Teddy’s had when David had walked in. _And when did they move to nicknames?_

That shouldn’t have stung as much as it did. Teddy used to feel comfortable enough with David to talk to him about anything. Maybe once this mess was put aside, they could get back there again.

In any case, Will was talking, and David listened.

_“Teddy, it’s Billy. I’m begging you, please call me back. I fucked up again, I know – I can’t seem to stop making a mess of things. But I want to fix it. I don’t care about anything else – I need to know that you’re okay. Please.”_

And then the one from a moment ago, along similar lines:

_“Teddy, it’s Billy. I don’t know if you got my message last night, but I meant everything I said. I went to see Emma this morning. I told her she could stick her contract up her Gucci-covered ass, I’m done with it. All that bullshit is over now. And I want to see you. No fake dating, no posed photos, no publicity. Just me and you, and maybe we can salvage something good out of this whole fucked-up situation. Please, call me?”_

_Excellent_.

The other side moving first on the cancellation would mean limited repercussions for Teddy, if any. As for the rest of it—the last thing Teddy needed right now was to get pulled back in to whatever drama Will Lehnsherr had cooked up. He was a wreck already, and it would only get worse the more Lehnsherr jerked him around. Teddy had an audition today, one tomorrow, a dinner meet and greet after that. He needed to be focused, not trying to keep up with the party crowd, or thinking about things David couldn’t control.

David deleted the voice mail. Then he deleted the earlier one, just to be sure. Wiping Teddy’s phone log meant that Teddy would never know Lehnsherr had even called.

That done, David put the phone back down on the table, an edge of satisfaction curling around his mind.

When Teddy stuck his head out of the bathroom a minute later, hair wet and only a towel wrapped around his slim waist, David was already head-down in his spreadsheets again, glasses on and focused.

He didn’t allow himself to look.

“Was that my phone?” Teddy frowned. “I thought I heard something.”

David shook his head, only glancing up for a minute. Water drops glistened on Teddy’s shoulders and chest, hair standing up in all directions from being rubbed partly dry. “Mine. Wrong number.”

Teddy nodded, dismissed the issue, and closed the bathroom door behind him again.

David let out a slow, controlled breath. Will Lehnsherr was only a bump in the road. They had bigger things to worry about.

_Alright then. Time to get this train back on the tracks._

* * *

The weeks after the Night of the Incident whizzed by a lot faster than Teddy had expected, or even really wanted to admit. It helped that David had his back. After that first horrible conversation he hadn’t said anything, or given Teddy shit for screwing up so badly. He just got on with things, a solid, comforting presence, and that gave Teddy the strength to do the same.

Work was the thing. That was what was going to keep him sane, keep him busy, stop him from clicking on every tabloid to see if his fuck-ups had made the headlines. David had sworn up and down that Ms. Frost wouldn’t release anything that would be equally damaging to Billy, but she wasn’t the only one who knew.

What was the old adage? All publicity is good publicity? Somehow that didn’t seem to apply any more.

The first audition post-Incident was along the lines of what Teddy was already used to. They had his portfolio, it was a music video, all he’d needed to do was wear a suit and look _‘smoldering and dangerous.’ (white male 20-25, fit, well-groomed, 5’11 or taller)._

Apparently ‘exhausted and miserable’ worked as a reasonable approximation of ‘smoldering,’ because the cluster of producers at the table at one end of the room hadn’t even waited for Teddy to finish walking across the room to greet them when they were already nodding and grinning at each other.

“Good job.” David had clapped him warmly on the shoulder at their usual post-audition debriefing at the shitty diner that had been home base since Teddy’s first successful booking in LA. Why mess with the routine that brought you luck? “They loved you, Ted. You’ve got a meeting next week to talk about the general vision for the video and get wardrobe fitted. The shoot’s booked over three days after that; I’ve put your call times in your calendar already.”

“Go figure,” Teddy sighed, trying to find the humor in it all. “Billy gets the spy movie scripts, and I get to be a pseudo Bond-boy for four minutes.”

Saying his name hurt, and Teddy didn’t miss the wince that crinkled the corners of David’s eyes.

“This is just the beginning,” David promised him, pushing his plate away from him for the waitress to gather up on her way by. “Every job opens up new contacts and networks for the next one. You’re due a good run.”

The next one, though, that had been the first sign that something had begun to change. Teddy had walked in to the audition as one of a half-dozen guys with the same general look, all of whom had the same hungry and faintly desperate look in their eyes as he had to be wearing.

But the casting director who opened the door had been one of the women who had kissed Teddy’s cheek at La Scala the month before. (Someone’s engagement party? An art opening? The parties with Billy had already started to blur together.)

She recognized him, though; shook his hand and eyed him speculatively, and when he’d gone off-book she’d leaned forward on the table and smiled. He’d played to her, then, pretended she was one of his acting profs, and when he let the last word of the monologue hang in the air for the last solid beat, his heart thundered in his chest.

_Nailed it._

* * *

“Way to go, Sir Galahad,” David cheered when he hung up the phone. The waitress set Teddy’s smoothie down in front of him and winked at David as she sashayed away. “You impressed the hell out of them. Filming’s not scheduled to start until mid-summer, but there’ll be pre-production kicking off in the spring.” He lifted his glass and waited for Teddy to follow suit so he could clink them together. “Your first big-screen role. You should be thrilled! Call your mom and let her know.”

“It’s a background part,” Teddy objected, the joy he should be feeling buried somewhere inside under a cotton-wool layer that muffled the edges of everything. “I’ll have five minutes of screen time where I’m not one of a hundred background extras. And we both know I only got the role because Ms. Grey remembered me from-”

“Don’t dismiss this, Ted,” David’s voice was soothing, calm and controlled like always, the familiar sound of safety. “You’ve worked hard, and you deserve every bit of this success.”

Teddy nodded, because agreeing was the easiest way to get David to move on to a different subject. The world moved on outside the diner window, the clear California sun beating down on the sidewalk, the traffic moving slowly, couples strolling by hand in hand.

It was his success, but it felt hollow.

* * *

“I’m not reading for _Hamstergeddon_ , and you can’t make me.”

“One major studio contract and you get picky.”

* * *

By the time Teddy stopped to breathe, his calendar for the next year was blocked off in color-coded blocks, blues and greens for rehearsals, red for audition callbacks ( _callbacks! Holy shit)_ , orange for fittings and meetings- He hadn’t seen a schedule that full since his last year of college classes, and the sight of it took his breath away. One thing he couldn’t deny—David’s plan had been more effective than Teddy had ever imagined. 

Only one remnant of his old life remained, his last photo shoot on the Calvin contract. One more shoot, and then he could leave that whole phase behind. Goodbye ‘hold that pose,’ hello actually doing the job that he’d been trained for, that he’d dreamt of, that he’d been working toward steadily for so many years of his life.

_If Billy could only see this._

But he wasn’t there, and thinking about him was entirely counterproductive. That was David’s word for it, anyway. Teddy preferred to think of it as ‘masochistic.’

It would be nice to see him one more time, if only to say thank you. But the way things had ended, Billy would probably hang up on him. Assuming he even answered the phone in the first place.

He should wait for Billy to reach out first.

Billy never called.

Teddy hadn’t really expected him to.

Honest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes an alcohol-fueled sexual encounter (oral sex) where consent is nebulous / dubious for both participants. Teddy believes that Billy is too intoxicated for proper consent and continues anyway, and Billy ignores a request from Teddy to slow down the encounter. Both men do participate fully, and deal with the negative emotional ramifications afterward. This may be triggering for some readers.
> 
> If you want to avoid the scene in question, tap out once the guys begin drinking following the Golden Globe nominations, and jump back in at “Teddy, open the door.” To completely clear the discussion of the event between Teddy and David, jump to “Teddy’s couch was reasonably comfortable” near the end of the chapter and pick up safely again from there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that talking can fix a lot of problems. Making new ones can wait until the morning.

Emma Frost’s office building loomed over the street below, as cool and sterile as the woman herself. Billy stalked through the hall toward her door, ignoring the meticulously framed awards, shadowboxed mementoes, and signed photographs from practically everyone and anyone worth knowing. He’d seen them all a thousand times before. The first time he and Tommy had been dragged here he’d been in awe, sitting in the hard steel and glass chairs in the lobby, kicking his heels in the air.

He’d been too short for his legs to reach the ground, back then. And Emma had seemed like a goddess or a queen, reigning over Hollywood from her ice and ivory palace.

“Mr. Lehnsherr,” Wendy kept pace with him, her heels clicking fiercely on the marble tiled floor. “You’ll have to wait. Ms. Frost is in a meeting, and cannot be disturbed.”

“I’m not going to be long,” Billy said curtly, and he waved the large brown envelope in his hand as though that would tell her anything. “I’m dropping off a contract, then I’m leaving. My ride is waiting for me downstairs.”

“I know Ms. Frost wanted a chance to speak with you, but if you’ll only wait here-”

A glance through the frosted glass window of Emma’s office showed only one hazy silhouette. “There’s no-one in there,” Billy pointed out. “I won’t be interrupting.”

And even if he was, he really didn’t care. The weeks had gone from bad to worse, every day bringing a new punch to the gut that tasted of guilt and regret. He really, _really_ wasn’t in the mood for lectures now, especially from someone who was supposed to be working for _him_.

Except that wasn’t the case, and had never been.

He twisted the door handle, and to his faint surprise, it opened, the door unlocked. _There we go. If she’d really wanted to be alone, she’d have locked it._

Emma was on her phone, leaning forward in her fancy articulated office chair, tapping her long nails on her desk in a rhythm of frustration. “He’s _your_ grandson,” she was saying as Billy opened the door. “ _You_ deal with him.”

Her head snapped up as he stepped in, and she covered the receiver with the tips of her fingers. “What is it, Will?”

Then, to the phone, “hold on a moment.”

Billy didn’t need to see the call display to know who would be at the other end. Erik—grandfather—the patriarch and controlling interest in Emma’s life, and in his. The only question was, which one of them was she busy selling out? Him, or Tommy?

And did he care enough to ask?

_No. Not right now, anyway._

He set the envelope down on her desk instead. “The contracts for _Freeze Factor._ Signed in blood and all.”

She gave him That Look, the one that meant he was being a spoiled brat and she was only barely holding her patience in check. “I’ll be sure to pass on your disdain when I speak with the casting director. Would you like a cut in pay as well, or will the three million be enough to soothe your bruised ego?”

_Dammit._

All she had to do —all she ever had to do—was use that tone and he was a kid again, that same familiar desperate craving for her approval and affection bubbling up like bile behind his tongue. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing himself not to blurt out anything else stupid. “It’s fine. It’s a great piece. It’ll be fun, even.”

“Better.” Emma took her hand off her phone and spoke into it again. “Did you want to talk to him? He’s right here.”

_Me, then. And probably about the way I completely screwed up their big Oscar campaign plans. Never mind how badly I hurt Teddy in the process. Or how I feel._

“I’ll pass.” Billy held up his hands and backed out of the office. “Say ‘hi’ to Grand-dad for me. I’ll catch up with him later.”

She didn’t stop him and he made it out the door in one piece. He closed it behind him, shrugged an apology to Emma’s harried-looking assistant, and beat it down the hallway as fast as he could go without actually looking like he was running.

Working was the best thing; that would keep himself out of his own head for long enough that maybe everything else would start to hurt less. He could be someone else for a while—someone _better_. Someone whose problems could all be solved through explosives and one-liners, whose tragedies would all be wrapped up neatly by the fifth act.

And then maybe his own train-wreck wouldn’t look nearly so bad.

Down in the elevator, then, trying not to look at himself in the mirrors on all three walls. He knew what he’d see: bags under his eyes, disheveled hair, the faint growth of a beard because he wasn’t filming today, so why bother shaving? He’d have to clean up for the talk show circuit when it started up again next week, but for now he could just be a guy.

The doors slid open on the fifth floor and a handful of people got on. All was good for a moment, then one of the women saw him, looked closer, and her eyes went wide.

_Shit._

She didn’t say anything, not to him, but he could see the elbow-nudging and the frantic finger signals reflected in the mirrored wall. Billy shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his untucked button-down shirt hanging over the waist and covering them.

2…1… the doors slid open and he waited until the group got off, ignoring the turned-heads and murmurs springing up between them as he walked past them and out the front door.

_That’ll be all over the tabs in half an hour. ‘Will Lehnsherr leaves manager’s office looking like a hobo. Is he headed for rehab?’_

Could be worse.

He could be an actress who’d gained half a pound.

Kate’s little purple convertible sat where he’d left it, Kate kicked back in the driver’s seat with her phone in her hands, sunglasses on her nose, and her feet up on the dashboard. She glanced his way when he vaulted over the closed passenger side door, and slid into his usual seat beside her. “How’s the dragon?” she asked, peering at him over the rims of her glasses, one eyebrow cocked.

“Same as ever.”

“That bad, hunh?”

“Just drive.”

Kate let out a low whistle, but she dropped her feet and started the car without any more commentary on Emma. She did pause just before pulling out into late afternoon traffic, though, and glance his way. “Where’s Theo hanging out these days? Should I take you by the gym?”

Billy cringed and sank down lower into his seat. “Please don’t. There’s nothing more horrible than desperately following someone around when they’re clearly not interested.”

“Mm-hm.” Kate made a noise that sounded clearly unconvinced. “Drinks, then. First round’s on me.”

Drinks, yes. That would make the awfulness of the past couple of weeks fade into numbness, turn everything that felt so important into meaningless background noise.

_That’s not a good thought._

He’d opened his mouth to agree but closed it again, feeling like a gaping goldfish as he did so.

_I want to forget. Booze is not the healthy way to do that._

It wasn’t a slippery slope that way, it was a greased-up waterslide. Keep on drinking to get Teddy out of his head and in six weeks or less he’d be sitting in front of some shrink in an in-patient center, telling woebegone stories about his messed-up childhood and fruitless search for affection.

Kate flicked his ear with her fingers. “Earth to Bill Maximoff. Come in, Billy.”

“I’m here, cut it out.” He swatted her hand away, and made his choice. “No drinks; not for me. I’ve been hitting it too hard lately. How about ice cream? All the unhealthy guilt, none of the hangover.” He patted his (still reasonably flat) stomach and made a face. “Nate’s going to have me on some no-carbs-no-fat-no-hope action-flick training regimen soon, so I may as well enjoy my freedom and my fifteen-percent body fat while I can.”

“If you’re at fifteen and look like that, I need to go back to the gym,” Kate snorted, but she pulled away from the curb and took them flying down the street. “Jesus, this town is ridiculous.”

“Ever think about just leaving?” Billy said morosely, watching the people on the sidewalks as they sped past. “Get on your dad’s yacht, head out to sea for five years and leave it all behind?”

“And spend those five years with my father? I’d rather eat broken glass.”

“Fair point.”

Kate whipped into a parking spot Ace-Ventura style, and a teenage girl on the sidewalk shook her fist at them as she jogged by. By the time they were inside and the gingham-aproned waitress was bringing them a pair of stupidly overpriced sundaes, Billy was feeling a bit less out of sorts.

At least until Kate got back on the subject of He Who Shall Not Be Named.

“All I’m saying is, you’ve both had time to cool off.” She poked her spoon at him and he dodged the attack. “You called right after, so of course he was going to still be in a mood. Maybe he’s thought it over again.”

“Or he hasn’t, and he still hates me.”

“Did he say that he hated you?”

“No,” Billy had to concede, tracing concentric circles in his ice cream with the tip of his spoon. “He didn’t say anything, that’s the problem.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Kate asked, shoving her sunglasses back up on top of her head before they finished sliding down her nose.

Someone outside stopped and looked in the window at them, then scurried away when she saw Billy looking back.

“He’ll actually hate me,” Billy suggested, and even mentioning the possibility stung.

Kate shrugged eloquently. “He might hate you right now, and you just don’t know it.”

“That’s not in the least bit reassuring.”

Kate’s look at him was shrewd. “It’s better to know, one way or the other. And the only way you’re going to get _that_ is by talking to him. Not his machine, and not his agent. _Him._ ”

“Maybe,” Billy mumbled, and he loaded his spoon up high so that he wouldn’t have to talk again. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

**E!Now Entertainment Update!**

Is there trouble in paradise? No official statements have been released, but the hot romance of the month appears to have petered out. Will Lehnsherr’s been seen bumming around town with bestie Kate Bishop, amid rumors of signing on to a major but as-of-yet-undisclosed new project. Checking out these candid snaps, he looks like an escapee from a demilitarized zone. Could it be the breakup blues? Meanwhile, Theo Altman’s at every party and casting call, taking meetings with directors all over town. Careful, cutiepie – don’t work so hard that you forget who brought you to the dance!

* * *

The couriered package with the script for Teddy’s First! Movie! Role! showed up at the door just as he was heading out, bag over his shoulder, for his Very Last shoot as a model. Assuming everything went the way it was supposed to, of course.

The delivery guy in the brown uniform handed the large envelope to him and held out a pen, waiting, unimpressed, for Teddy to sign. It would be the indie film where he’d been the last-minute recast; he wouldn’t be seeing pages for the King Arthur movie for months yet. Even if he hadn’t been their first choice, it didn’t matter to his mood at all. _Don’t you see?_ Teddy wanted to shake him, hug him, make him respond. _This is the beginning of my new life!_ But then, a guy like that probably saw guys like Teddy every year, saw them arrive in town with big dreams and flame out spectacularly.

_Not me._

He signed the slip and the driver headed off, that blasé expression still blanking out his face. Teddy turned the packet over and ran his fingers over the shipping label. _Mr. Theodore Altman_ , very formal. He didn’t have time to start reading it now. He tucked it into his bag instead, safe and snug in between his running shoes and his dressing gown. How would _that_ look, to be able to bring out his script and read it during setups?

He still woke up in the morning wistful, chasing a lingering sense of regret that never seemed to fade. But this helped. It helped a lot.

Teddy was still walking on air when he arrived on location, the waves lapping up against the deserted beach and fluffy white clouds scuttling by overhead. The wind cut cold through his shirtsleeves as he trotted quickly down the wooden stairs, and he shivered. Shooting summer ads in winter was a particular torture that he would not be upset to leave behind.

“Theo, darling!”

Teddy looked up and waved at the sound of his name. Sylvie sashayed over, already prepped, her usual green silk … robe… thing… thrown on over a pair of stupidly expensive jeans and a bikini top.

“Look at that,” she purred, wrapping one arm around his neck and kissing him warmly on both cheeks. “You and me, together again.”

“The dream team reunited for a final hurrah,” he joked, giving her a quick squeeze around the waist, and she pouted at him. Sylvie would never be one of his favorite people—she came on way too fast and way too fake most of the time—but he couldn’t deny that they looked damn good together.

At least on camera, which was all that mattered.

“I’d heard you were quitting. Tell me it’s not true!” She tucked her arm through his and they headed down to the sand together, where Henry was running around with his light meter and Scott was gloomily watching the skies. 

“’Fraid so,” Teddy shrugged. “Moving on, moving up, hopefully. There’s something bigger and better on the horizon.”

She smiled at him, her green eyes glittering and her mass of blonde waves curling sensuously around her shoulders. A kittenish smile touched her lips, already painted dark red. “I have no doubt. You’ll be brilliant at anything you try.”

“That’s sweet,” Teddy grinned. “I appreciate that.”

Wardrobe caught up to him then, and makeup, hustling him off to the trailer where he was stripped down, handed a half-dozen pairs of jeans to try on, and sprayed with enough baby oil that he was going to make flares you could see from space, not just ‘exude a sensuous gleam,’ no matter what lens Scott ended up choosing.  

His chest still stung in places, sensitive from Mrs. Popsuevich’s hot wax treatment yesterday. _The price we pay for art._

At least she’d left his crotch alone this time.

“I swear, they choose cold days for these things just to make my nipples pop.” Sylvie complained prettily, lounging on the trailer couch behind Teddy as he waited for his hair to be spritzed and gelled to death.

“Charming.” He was reasonably sure that she teased him like that because she knew he was gay, and therefore ‘safe’ in a way some of the other guys weren’t. But every once in a while she not only tiptoed up to the line, but flung herself bodily across it.

“There,” Remy proclaimed, and turfed Teddy out of the chair.

“Are we ready _yet?_ ” came the call from outside and Sylvie sighed in a very put-upon way. She shrugged out of the green coverup and let it slide off her arms to puddle on the couch. Remy’s eyes tracked her as she moved.

_Hah! And there goes my ego, thinking she was putting that act on for me._

He didn’t have any more time to think about it though, as he was shooed over to the waterline to set up the first string of poses.

After that it was business as usual.

“Arch a little more, no—a little less; turn your face a quarter inch to the right and look up and to the left. No, just your eyes. Now close them. Look down without looking like you’re looking down, and Sylvie, take off your top. Theo, at least _try_ and appear as though you could be sexually attracted to her? She’s a beautiful woman. I need to get smolder. Better. Now open your mouth and turn so you’re almost kissing her jaw. But keep your mouth open. Not that open, you’re not going to _eat_ her! There. Now hold it- right- there.”

_And so it goes._

Sand in his armpits and his hair, Sylvie’s perfume and some kind of floral shampoo tickling his nose, Teddy tugged her into his lap. It was just jeans, this one, Sylvie’s bikini top gone the way of her robe. She pressed against his bare chest, pouting on demand but a mischievous light in her eyes. “My thong is so high up my ass right now I could press charges.”

If it had been Billy in his lap like this, Teddy might have found it a lot more difficult to keep his expression set and the laughter at bay.

Sylvie clung to his body, one arm twined around his neck. “Whose fantasy do you think this one is?” Sylvie murmured softly, barely moving her lips. “Someone should tell him beach sex is only good for getting sand where sand should never be.”

_I will not laugh, I will not laugh-_

“Hold that, right there, stare into her eyes and project _sex_. I need _sex_ right to the back row!”

“He hasn’t had sex in months, that’s why he’s so obsessed,” Sylvie murmured again, and Teddy had to bite the inside of his cheek.

“You’re a terrible person and I hate you.”

“Theo! _Focus_ , for God’s sake!”

Sylvie fluttered her eyelashes up at Teddy, flattening her hands out on his chest and arching her back for the camera. The wind caught her hair and whipped it around her face, where a good handful of strands and more than a little sand stuck to the oil that wardrobe kept spritzing on them both.

Makeup descended like a pack of hyenas, Teddy laughed, Scott lost his mind, and they got sent on break while he calmed down and avoided an aneurism.

Teddy hauled his robe on, careful not to mess with the hair, and pulled the precious script out of his bag. _Evolution Ink_ read the title, and Teddy shivered in anticipation.

“What’s that?” Sylvie leaned over his shoulder and her eyebrow went up at the sight of the stapled sheaf of pages. “I see you were serious. Congratulations. Is this a callback?”

“Signed and sealed,” Teddy confessed, grinning with the excitement that she was bound to share. “We start rehearsals next week.”

“So _proud,”_ she cooed, patting him on the cheek, before continuing sarcastically. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to leave all this glamour behind.”

He laughed and she left him to his reading, fishing her phone out of her bag before she made her way outside.

Six hours later, the sun setting and everyone apparently satisfied with the pictures, “the talent” were told to make themselves scarce. It was a great move, the light fading and the wind getting cooler along with it. Teddy’s muscles ached from holding himself still for so long, sand sticking in layers to the oil on his chest and back.

He took advantage of the tiny shower stall in the wardrobe trailer for the last time, stretching out the worst of the sore spots under the lukewarm water.

The crew was still striking the shoot when he wandered out, bag over his shoulder and shoes in his hand. The sand pushed up between his toes, warm and fine, and he wandered a little ways away from the bustle to look out over the water.

The Pacific Ocean swelled, the tide slowly rising and retreating every day, and always would. It didn’t give a shit about the personal troubles of one of the small monkeys walking along its edge. Everything about it was soothing. He could walk out into it, lie down in it, let the salt water carry him away.

_The cure for all things is salt:  sweat, tears, or the sea._

He couldn’t remember where his mother had found the quote, but it had become one of her favorites. He’d heard her say it thousands of times over the years.

The one thing the ocean did—it made all of Teddy’s problems feel very small and insignificant. Stripped of the gut-punch of emotion, soothed by the susurration of the waves, it all started to slide into perspective.

Mismatched expectations, that had been the problem from the start. And mixed signals like whoa. Because Billy had flirted and Teddy had flirted right on back—they’d kissed, and the spark that burned between them hadn’t been acting, no matter what anyone said.

Maybe, if he called-

“Theo!” Sylvie waved him down, posing on the crest of the little dune that bordered the beach and standing silhouetted against the sky before making her way towards him. “We’re struck, darling. If you wanted to catch a ride with craft services, you need to come along.”

“Be right there.” Teddy chased the train of thought that Sylvie had accidentally broken, but the ends tailed off into nothingness. He was left unsettled, with a faint sense of renewed purpose, but nothing more.

“Come on,” she coaxed, and tucked her hand through his arm again as they made their way back toward the stairs to the parking lot. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Teddy raised an eyebrow. “As in what?”

“As in a mixer, silly.” She patted his arm. “A few people I know are meeting for drinks at the Marmont tonight. You should come.”

It was a thought. Get out again, make some new memories with a new group of people. “Maybe,” he conceded. “I have to do a couple of things first. Can I meet you there if I can make it?”

Sylvie tipped her head against his shoulder and snuggled against his arm as they reached the top of the wooden stairs. “I’m going to miss working with you, you know,” she said silkily. “You’re my favorite.”

He laughed, ducking his head. It was ridiculous flattery, and he was pretty damned sure she wanted something from him, but it was still nice to hear. “You’re going to make me blush.”

“That’s fine, you’re cute when you blush.” Sylvie stopped walking and stepped very deliberately under the parking lot light, the lamp turned on now that the sky was getting dark. She tugged on his arm and drew him around to face her. “I meant what I said, you know. I’d love to work with you again someday.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” It wasn’t, not entirely, but it was a lot easier to go along with the platitudes than be rude. She was only trying to be nice. “You never know—if you get into acting, you could be my leading lady some day.”

“Do you think?” Sylvie’s green eyes went wide, and her smile blossomed, bright and calculated. “We would have such fun.” Her hand snaked around his neck and he froze, unsure which way to move.

_What’s happening here?_

She answered that question pretty damn quickly, rising up on her toes and planting a passionate kiss on his mouth. There was tongue involved somewhere, slimy, thick and _wrong_. Teddy couldn’t move, too stunned to push her away.

“Sylvie!” He stepped back and she kept her hand on his arm. No-one was around to see that little display of what-the-fuck, but her eyes darted to the bushes at the far side of the parking lot as though she’d heard a noise. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“You don’t like me?” she pouted, her hand still tight on his arm.

“I like you fine,” Teddy hesitated. “But not like that. Gay, remember?”

“Not even a teeny bit bi?” she flashed those green eyes at him again, and there was danger lurking deep within.

He shook his head. “Not even a teeny bit.”

“Pity,” Sylvie sighed, rose up again and kissed him tenderly on the cheek, and this time he managed to step back just after contact. “I must have misunderstood. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Teddy said automatically. He wiped his mouth without thinking, his stomach unsettled and queasy.

“I’ll see you around, Theo,” Sylvie resettled her bag on her shoulder and turned, flipping her hair and catching his eye. “Soon, I’m sure.”

“Not if I see you coming first,” Teddy mumbled under his breath.

That settled one thing, pretty damn solidly. He was _not_ going anywhere near the Marmont tonight.

Or maybe ever again.

* * *

There were voices in the living room. Billy could hear them through the bedroom wall. Kate, his sleep-muzzed brain identified. Kate and Tommy.

Fine.

The world outside was still dark. Night-time. Sleep time.

If he concentrated, he could make out some of the words.

_“He still hasn’t called?”_

_“Are you kidding me? He’s determined to go down in history as the biggest loser of the century.”_

Billy stopped listening, jammed his pillow over his head, and tried to find sleep again.

What did his stupid brother know about anything, anyway?

* * *

Teddy didn’t go out that night, and he didn’t feel much like moving the next morning, either. After spending the previous day contorted into strange positions and covered in beach sand, taking the morning to deal with paperwork and workouts in his pajamas seemed like a brilliant choice.

His home was his castle, after all. No matter what kind of craziness was going on outside, when he came home he was safe.

He stabbed a finger at the remote as he walked by, the television flicking on in the corner. Dumbass talk shows and a smoothie, that was the way to start. He could stay cocooned in there for as long as he needed, and not have to think about Sylvie, or David, or stupid, gorgeous Billy Maximoff.

_“Our next guest started as a child star but recently made a splash coming out as one of young Hollywood’s out and proud. Nominated for Best Actor at this year’s Golden Globes, and recipient of more than five Kids’ Choice and People’s Choice awards over the course of his career. Put your hands together for our next guest, Will Lehnsherr!”_

Teddy whipped his head around and stared at the screen, even his _television_ turning traitor on him today. Maybe it was some kind of mistake, or he’d misheard.

But no, there was Billy, lean and clean-shaven, his bangs curling just so over his forehead, his suit jacket buttoned just once, everything about him screaming ‘casual ease.’ It was all so perfectly calculated, the way he scanned the audience with a sharp eye all the while he was smiling and waving, soaking in the deafening applause.

_What a phony._

Ellen bounced over to hug him, Billy hugged her back. From looking at him, you’d never have recognized the guy who had drunk himself into a stupor just so he could handle hooking up with Teddy. Hooking up, and then going silent, like Teddy had served his purpose and been thrown away.

( _Unfair,_ his brain protested. _The weirdness was purely your fault, and you should have called to apologize for the way_ you _took advantage of_ him _._ His heart and determination to stay angry ignored the reminder.)

_“Welcome to the show! We’re here to talk about your movie, of course, but before we start, let’s hit on the news everyone’s talking about these days. You and Theo Altman.”_

He couldn’t stand listening to it anymore, and turned off the tv fast enough to avoid hearing Billy’s reply. Whatever he was going to say would be a lie, and Teddy couldn’t cope—not with any version that Emma Frost’s PR team had spun.

Home wasn’t a sanctuary at all.

Teddy stomped off to his bedroom and changed his clothes. Screw everything. He was going to the gym.

* * *

Every moment sitting there on the couch in the _Ellen_ studio was another second of exquisite torture, and Emma knew it, damn her. She sat in the back row of the audience watching him. If Billy went off-script, even for a moment, he’d be hearing about it for the rest of his life.

“Come on,” the bubbly host was coaxing, her grin wide. Obviously someone had forgotten to take Teddy off of his list of approved topics. That, or Emma had _left_ him on, just to make Billy miserable. “You’re adorable, he’s a serious cutie, what’s not to love?”

He couldn’t be angry at Ellen. She was operating on bad information, and he couldn’t even correct it on-camera without causing bigger problems. So Billy grinned, tipping his head back in a move that usually read as ‘good-natured embarrassment’ and gestured his surrender. “Nothing, nothing at all.”

Ellen hit a button and that damned sound clip played, the one they’d been cueing during sound test earlier, when Billy hadn’t known what it would be used for. “ _You liiiiiiiike him_ -“ Sandra Bullock’s voice exclaimed over the speakers, and the audience roared with laughter at what they thought was good-natured, pre-planned ribbing.

He was going to murder Emma and hide her body parts.

But if she was going to throw him under the bus like this, he was going to go down swinging. And there was something no-one ever expected from him, not on a media stop.

Billy was going to tell the truth. At least partly.

“Alright, alright!” he held up his hands, laughing. Ellen applauded, and he shook his head. He waited a few beats for the audience to calm down, and he gave his best sheepish grin before getting serious. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and ducked his head before speaking just off-side of the close camera. “Yeah. I do. He’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know. The moment we met it was like ‘yeah, this is it.’”

_Are you watching this, Teddy? Because I mean it._

That got the ‘aww’ reaction from the audience he’d been gunning for; he had them on-side now. “But no big news for us just yet?” Ellen teased him.

_Why not. Let’s go for the big one._

“We’ve only been going out a couple of months,” he pretended to protest. “It’s a bit soon to be talking wedding bells.” He shrugged, oh-so-deliberately fake, and gave her a smile they could see all the way to the back. “Theo Altman is an amazing person, and I’m incredibly lucky to have him in my life. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

_Start the conspiracy theories about Vegas elopements… now._

The audience played right into him, lots of _ooohs_ and _aaahs_ and various other middle-aged talk-show-audience sorts of reactions. LBGT-friendly was one thing; totally changing a money-making formula was something that would never happen. Not on a major network.

Emma didn’t cheer. In fact, she was pinching the bridge of her nose, looking like she’d just swallowed something incredibly foul-tasting.

_Serves you right._

“Is he watching?” Ellen asked, her grin wide as she tapped her cue cards back into tidy order.

“I have no idea,” Billy confessed. “Now I’m hoping he isn’t.”

Was he? Whatever. It was done now, and there was no taking it back.

* * *

Emma caught up to him in the hall outside the green room, her heels clacking angrily on the tile. “You enjoy giving my public relations department heart attacks, is that it?”

“Call it job security,” Billy snapped. He ducked into the first door on his left, the men’s washroom, and waited. Sooner or later she would go away, and he could go back to pretending that his life made sense. 

* * *

Eli held the bag steady while Teddy pounded the ever-loving shit out of it, Eli keeping his usual smart-ass commentary firmly to himself. Teddy had stomped in there earlier than usual, while Eli had been busy setting up for the day, and one look at the usually even-tempered guy had sent Eli for the spare gloves, handing them over without a word.

Teddy, for his part, didn’t seem all that inclined to talk about what was bothering him. Eli wasn’t all that inclined to push. He’d talk if he wanted to, and it didn’t take a whole lot of detective work to figure out at least some of the problem.

The door to the boxing gym level opened, and Nate stuck his head in. Eli nodded at him, not losing his hold over the bag, waiting until the other trainer was within earshot to actually open conversation.

Nate was only interested in talking to Teddy.

“Everything okay?”

Teddy hung off the bag, the sweat sheen covering his face and shoulders. “Yeah? I guess.”

Eli wandered off at that point, the fountain calling his name. Teddy still needed to burn off some more of whatever was eating his ass before Eli would be willing to get in the ring with him, so if Nate wanted to drag him off to make up for missed leg days, Eli wasn’t gonna get in the way.

It didn’t look like that was in the works, though, Teddy still in his gloves and mopping the sweat from his brow by the time Eli got back.

“Will was on Ellen this morning,” Nate was saying, and Eli stared at him. If the guys were still going out, then obviously Teddy would know about that. If not, why would he want to be reminded?

Nate seemed to feel the way Eli was staring holes into his thick skull, because he ignored him even more loudly.

“Oh yeah?” Teddy seemed totally disinterested. “Promo season must be in full swing.”

“You didn’t watch?”

“No.” Teddy jutted his chin at Eli, and sent the bag swinging in his direction. “You done with your rest, old man?”

“Old man? I’ll show you old,” Eli scoffed. “Unless Nate needs to get his ass kicked first.”

“Nope, I’m good. Catch up with you guys later.” Nate headed back out the way he’d come, leaving confusion reigning in his wake.

“He gets weirder every year.”

* * *

The flowers waited for Billy when he got in the door, the concierge handing him the cut-glass vase as he passed by the desk. What had Tommy done to piss off Kate now? The dozen perfect red roses had to be labeled for Billy by mistake. A suck-up gift, maybe. It wasn’t their birthday, none of the family would send _flowers_ even if it was, and anything job-related would get sent through Emma’s office, not to the condo.

Still, they smelled amazing, the petals only just curling away from the centers, the fragrance sweet and sultry at the same time. A small card sat tucked into the middle of the bouquet, and Billy fished it out, his heart pounding faster than it should.

 _Billy_ , said the envelope.

Only a few people in the world ever called him ‘Billy.’ Tommy wasn’t going to send him roses.

The card was generic from the florist, the short message inside typed and unsigned. That wasn’t any help, but it was what the message said that meant everything.

_I’m sorry._

The elevator binged and Billy scrambled out moments before it closed on his foot, his motor functions totally flatlined by his surprise and the thrill of joy that raced through him at those two little words.

There was no doubt about it now. His plan had worked. Teddy had seen the show, seen Billy’s confession, and miracle of miracles, he had _believed_.

Billy curled his hand close around the little card.

He should call.

Teddy would be expecting him to call, wouldn’t he?

He stopped in the hallway and hauled his phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t turned Teddy’s number into a hotkey yet—it hadn’t seemed like a great idea, considering—and now he had to scroll through a half-dozen entries to find the one he wanted.

The phone beeped and dumped him straight to voicemail; Teddy must have his phone off. Still.

“Hey, Teddy, it’s me. I got the flowers, and they’re beautiful. I just wanted to say thank you, and if you want to meet up, maybe talk some, I haven’t changed my mind. Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

* * *

_Bleep_

The system at the phone company registered a message – **1 voice mail, from blocked number.**

Teddy’s phone didn’t flash.

* * *

Exhausted and wrung out, feeling like a wet sock, or a dog’s used chew toy, Teddy dragged his sorry ass back home. A large package was waiting outside his door, just sitting out there in the hallway like the delivery guy had given up waiting and bailed.

Teddy knelt down and picked up the odd-shaped parcel. He opened the top of the folded paper and the most wonderful scent curled up from inside. The gift turned out to be a dozen roses, of all the things, tucked in a crystal vase, their petals a soft orange-yellow that faded to red at the tips.

A card was tucked inside the bouquet, and Teddy opened it, a frown pulled his eyebrows tight together. Who would be sending him _roses_? If he was going to get anything from a studio it would have been the day he signed his contract, or maybe first day on set, not some random Thursday in the middle of December.

The card was a generic little blank thing from the florist, the short message inside typed and unsigned.

_I’m sorry._

Billy? It had to be.

Teddy stayed where he was, and tugged his phone out of his pocket. Dead. The battery must have run out while he was at the gym. And, because he was an idiot, he didn’t have Billy’s number stored anywhere else.

He’d plug the phone in and let it charge before the stupid industry party he’d already agreed to go to. He’d waited weeks to hear from Billy; an extra couple of hours wouldn’t be the end of the world.

No matter how desperately his beating heart was trying to convince him otherwise.

* * *

For once, Billy actually showed up at a party near the original start time. It wasn’t a major event, just a birthday party being thrown for the girlfriend of a buddy who worked with one of his grand-dad’s producers. But apparently the girlfriend’s kid liked the reruns of Billy and Tommy’s old show, and a command performance had been requested—nay, demanded—from above.

He’d gone along with it, if only to keep Emma off-balance. She’d obviously been expecting him to say no, so the look on her face when he’d agreed, and without fighting, had been completely worth it.

So here he stood, in yet another hotel bar, a glass of champagne in his hand, making nice to the guys in suits that he vaguely remembered seeing tour sets at one point or another. And he was constantly, exquisitely aware of his phone in his pocket.

It wasn’t ringing. It hadn’t rung at all that afternoon, and no matter how many times he checked it, the sound was still on and his call log still sat empty.

_Why would he send me flowers if he didn’t want to talk to me?_

Maybe he was on-set. Nate had said something pointed about Teddy getting a couple of parts, and Billy’s stomach flip-flopped. He should have been there to celebrate, the way Teddy had been there-

Well, maybe not exactly that way. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

Billy checked his phone. Nothing.

“Waiting for prince charming, I take it?” Brandon wandered over, his knowing smirk the absolute last thing Billy wanted to see right now. “Trouble in paradise, or is he running late?”

_How much did he know?_

No-one had made any official statements yet, and as far as the tabloid media were concerned, Billy and Teddy were still an item. Did Brandon suspect the lie?

“Theo?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t talked to him this afternoon.” That was true, at least. “I’m not sure if he’s planning on coming. He’s been busy.”

“So I’ve heard. So you two _are_ still seeing each other?” Brandon raised an eyebrow right back at Billy, imitating his arch look. “Because if not, then I hope you don’t mind if I move in on that.”

“Yeah, I mind!” Billy shot back, and from the smug grin on Brandon’s face, he knew—he’d fallen right into Brandon’s trap. Jerk. “He’s not your type anyway. He has standards.”

“Well, what do you know.” Brandon was ignoring Billy, looking over his shoulder at something behind. “Speak of the devil.”

_It can’t be._

Billy didn’t want to turn around. He couldn’t _not_.

There he was, Billy’s deepest fear and his most desperate dream, standing by the door and shaking hands with the host. He was even more beautiful than the last time Billy had seen him, if such a thing were even remotely possible. His slacks hugged his legs, his shirtsleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, exposing the thick, curved muscle of his forearms, and silver glinted all along the curves of his ears.

Billy swallowed against his terror.

_He sent me flowers, he apologized. He wants to make this better._

_So why didn’t he call?_

Billy handed his glass to Brandon without thinking, wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants and headed across the room to his destiny.

Teddy moved into the main floor of the bar, and he looked up. His eyes met Billy’s and so many expressions flickered across his face. None of them were ‘angry;’ though, so that had to be a good thing. Teddy stepped away and glanced around, then nodded toward a small alcove filled with a potted plant, where they would be a little better shielded from the view of the room. 

A moment later they were standing face to face, as alone as they could get at a hundred-person cocktail party, and Billy, loudmouth that he was, couldn’t find any words at all.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call this afternoon,” Teddy spoke first, hesitant and quiet. Hope shone in his eyes though, and Billy melted. “My phone died, and I had your number stored in it. Then by the time I could get it to turn on again, I had to leave- I had no idea you were going to be here tonight.”

“Either did I,” Billy confessed, his voice squeaking once, humiliatingly, as he tried to push air past the lump in his throat. “But I’m glad you did. You look—” he gestured helplessly. “You look amazing.”

Teddy flushed across the tops of his cheeks, and how could a guy who looked the way he did really not be able to take an honest compliment? “I wanted to say,” he started. “Thank-”

“Don’t,” Billy cut him off. Whatever he was about to say, it was going to be something about the last few weeks, and that was a memory he never wanted to relive. “I wish I could take it all back _._ That whole night. Everything that’s happened since. I want to do it all differently.” He reached out instead, taking one of Teddy’s hands in his.

Teddy let him do it, and didn’t pull away. Instead he froze, then slowly curled his fingers around Billy’s. “I panicked,” Teddy replied softly. “I took advantage of you when you were drunk, and then I panicked. There’s no excuse for that.”

Billy shook his head fervently. “No. That’s not what happened, don’t you see? I was the one who took things too far. I wanted to be with you and even when I knew that wasn’t why you were with me, I still pushed you. I’m the one who took advantage, and I should be the one to apologize.”

_I’m the one who should have thought to send flowers, or gone and camped on your doorstep until I could explain. I don’t deserve your kindness._

Something shifted in Teddy’s expression, guilt to surprise to something almost giddy before he shut it down again. Teddy ducked his head, in that gesture Billy was coming to recognize meant embarrassment. “That’s not exactly true, you know. I wanted to—I. I still would.”

There it was, the truth of what he was saying obvious in the worry laid thick in Teddy’s eyes. _He wanted to. He really did want me._

Teddy was still talking, and Billy forced himself to keep listening instead of steamrolling the conversation. “But we agreed that we were going to keep it all business, and it sounds stupid out loud, but- I liked you too much to pretend to like you. And then _that_ happened—anyway. That’s why I tapped out. I can’t do it anymore.”

The words came tumbling out of Teddy like they’d been bricked up inside him for weeks.

“It’s okay, we’re okay.” Billy grabbed both of Teddy’s broad, strong hands in his own. “I think we’re both enormous morons-”

“Speak for yourself.”

“But we can fix this, I know we can. I want to.” His turn for truth, now, and to show half the courage that Teddy had by speaking first. He could do this. “I knew this whole arrangement was going to be a huge mistake from the moment we met,” Billy confessed. Teddy went pale and Billy squeezed his hands tight so that he couldn’t pull away. “Not like that! I’ve never felt this kind of attraction before, for anyone. And the more time we spent together, the better I got to know you, the harder it got to ignore. Then I sabotaged everything, like I always do.” 

Teddy raised his eyes away from their clasped hands, his deep blue gaze suffocating and overwhelming together. “I’ve missed you,” he said haltingly, as though speaking with more force would make Billy disappear. 

Billy nodded once. “Me too. Do you think we could ever-” he hesitated that one moment too long, hope swelling thick within his breast.

“What, pick up where we left off?”

“Anything but that,” Billy joked dryly, and Teddy flashed a grin. “How about an hour before that? And this time for real. No contracts, no photo calls or pap walks, no more lies. Just me and you, two regular guys, trying out this whole ‘dating’ thing. And see what happens when we’re being honest.”

“Are you asking me out?” Teddy asked, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Like on a _real_ date?”

Billy considered it, but only for a moment. “Only if we can stay in. Popcorn and Netflix, or something equally mundane and normal. All I’ve done so far is share a fake-you with the world, and I’m sick of it.” 

“Netflix and chill?” Teddy joked, and- _oh. Ohhh._ “I can definitely get behind that.” He was looking at Billy’s mouth, something new and dangerously intent in his half-lidded eyes, and in the firm set of his jaw.

“Assuming we can find something worth watching,” Billy murmured.

 _Oh, to hell with this._ He looked up, and Teddy was right _there_ , tall blond perfection, wearing cologne that smelled like pure distilled sex. The spot where they stood was half in shadow, and no-one in the main room was paying any attention to them at all. “I really want to kiss you,” he said aloud. “Right here, right now, with no ulterior motive except making you feel good. Not because we’re showing off for a camera, or because I want to prove something. Just because you have the most amazing lips in the world. Say yes?”

Teddy laughed, low and warm. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” he grinned, taking any sting out of the words.

Billy flushed, but didn’t break eye contact. “Sometimes.”

Teddy looked at him for a moment longer, hesitated just that fraction of a second, but Billy didn’t move. He couldn’t give in to the impulse this time—Teddy had to come to him.

And then the crook of Teddy’s finger was under his jaw, tipping his face up. Billy went willingly, stepping into Teddy’s space, so close that their arms and legs were almost touching, fabric brushing against skin so exquisitely sensitive with anticipation that they might as well have been naked already. “Yes,” he murmured, as though body language weren’t enough.

Billy rose up on the balls of his feet just enough to close the distance between them. Teddy’s lips were just like he remembered, soft, yielding, hot. Then Teddy kissed him back, slid his hand into Billy’s hair and held him in place, parted his lips and traced his tongue along Billy’s, and nothing was soft at all anymore.

Teddy’s hunger fed Billy’s and the more he responded, fists clenched in Teddy’s shirt, the harder and deeper Teddy kissed him, until there was nothing in the world but this.

“Holy shit,” Billy breathed out, when the kiss finally broke. He didn’t let go, Teddy’s shirt no doubt horribly wrinkled by now. “That was- you are—really good at that.”

But someone laughed, not far from where they stood, the swell of conversation rising. Teddy startled and then frowned, his thumb scudding softly across Billy’s lower lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Teddy shook his head as though trying to clear it. “Just overthinking, I guess.”

Billy snorted. “That’s usually my line.”

“What if we mess this up again?” Teddy spoke slowly, carefully, his cheeks coloring. “It hurt too much to walk away the first time. What if we’re better off not trying to make things complicated?”

“We’re not,” Billy said firmly, as firmly and solidly as he could. “You can feel it too, this… _thing_ between us. I know you can.” He hung his head for a moment, trying to wrap his brain around the right words, the ones that would fix what he had broken, fix it so well that not even a scar would remain.

“The last couple of weeks have been some of the worst of my life. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you. Maybe it started a long time ago and it took being a massive idiot to prove it to myself. But either way—I want the chance to prove it to _you_.”

“No-one falls in love after only a couple of weeks, Billy. Lust, sure, or infatuation, but that’s not the same thing.”

“Try me.” And Billy held Teddy’s gaze, opening up. He dropped all the walls, all the barricades built up by years of shutting his real self away. Everything he used to keep the world from seeing the real him—he ripped it all down, in that instant, staring into Teddy’s bright blue eyes.

And Teddy didn’t look away. Instead the smile grew, tentative and hopeful, shy and sweet, the purest and most honest smile that Billy had seen on his face, ever. “Okay,” he murmured, and he kissed Billy again, a laugh bubbling up from deep inside his chest and searing heat racing through Billy’s body at the contact. “Okay. No-one’s _that_ good of an actor.”

Billy grabbed his hands and held them, lacing his fingers through Teddy’s and kissing him back. “Come home with me,” he begged. “I want to apologize properly. We’ll do it right this time.”

“No.” Teddy shook his head, and Billy’s heart shattered for one horrible, brutal second. But then Teddy kept talking. “I want a fresh start. No ghosts, no memories, nothing like it was last time. Use one of your fancy credit cards to get us a room upstairs,” he suggested, his growing smile a promise of a thousand delicious sins. “Neutral territory where we can really be alone.”

“Done,” Billy promised, reaching out one more time to cup Teddy’s face in his hand. Teddy turned towards him, nuzzled Billy’s palm, and it took every ounce of strength that Billy possessed not to push him to the floor right there. “Don’t go anywhere,” he warned, and Teddy laughed.

Billy walked steadily for the door, his nerve endings humming a concerto. The moment he passed through the door and into the brightly lit lobby, he sped up, the concierge’s desk feeling like it was a thousand miles away.

The first choices were obvious: a room booked under B. Maximoff instead of ‘Will Lehnsherr,’ a king-sized bed, room service- no to the offer of champagne. _Nothing like it was last time._ That meant no alcohol. He wanted to remember all of it. Billy skimmed the list on the calligraphed menu and pointed to one line in particular.

“Very good, sir. Your room key.”

And it was just that easy.

Billy hovered by the desk, trying to look casual, but his thumbs trembled a little as he pulled out his phone. Twitter was still open – easier to DM Teddy than fight with his texting autocorrects. At least Teddy hadn't blocked him there while they weren't talking. 

 _Blocked._ A tease of a thought whispered at the edge of his mind, but the urgency of right-here-right-now turned it as insubstantial as smoke.

@nottheeviltwin **: Rm 1405. Meet me there.**

@somecallmetheo **: Fifteen minutes to make my official appearance here, and then I’m all yours.**

_Oh God._

He had fifteen minutes to find the lobby drugstore, shower, dress again, and panic like he had never allowed himself to panic before.

_Definitely not enough time._

And way too long to wait, all at once. Billy took the elevator up, not making eye contact with anyone else, staring at the numbers as they ticked up, and counted down the seconds until his lost paradise would be within reach again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making love and making promises - and miles to go before they sleep.

Teddy had asked for fifteen minutes; thirty seconds into a conversation with one of the producers who had been a link in the chain that had gotten him this invitation in the first place, and he was fervently wishing he’d said ‘fuck it’ and left with Billy. The whole point of the evening had been to do more networking, get his face out there, confirm rumors of his success at booking acting gigs-

And all he could think about was Billy, Billy’s dark eyes looking at him like Teddy was the center of the universe, the strength in his hands when he’d held Teddy tight, memories of Billy’s mouth, hot and slick on his cock.

“Saw him the other day on the Ellen show,” the producer was saying, and Teddy hastily tuned back in behind his fake-smiling eyes. “You and Will make an interesting match. How did you meet?”

Uh.

“Our trainer introduced us,” Teddy improvised, and that wasn’t actually a lie. Nate just hadn’t known that they’d been set up before. “Nate Richards. He’s been a friend of mine since I moved to L.A., and he’s worked with Will and Tom for years. He thought we might hit it off.” He smiled, a charming, disarming grin that was extremely useful for social situations. “I think I owe him dinner.”

“In this industry, it’s all about maintaining those relationships. Nothing’s as important as who you know,” the producer agreed, as though it were something new.

_Come on, already._

“It really is.” Teddy finished his Coke and glanced over the man’s shoulder as though he’d seen someone he knew. “And speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course, son. Of course. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Teddy set the glass down on the bar and headed for the door. His blood pulsed hot through his veins. _Room 1405._

Would Billy be waiting for him? What was he doing up there alone right now?

Teddy’s mind served up image after image, running through the possibilities: Billy just stepping out of the shower, dripping wet, the water gleaming on the muscles of his shoulders.  Or still dressed but his jacket off, tossed somewhere, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up. Or stretched out across the bed, naked and ready, his dick hard and thick against his stomach.

Brandon Sharpe was moving in on an intercept course, but Teddy ducked out of the bar before he was within effective earshot.

Once he was around the corner and out of sight, he waited a handful of breaths before heading—calmly—to the bank of elevators along the far wall.

According to his phone, it had been twelve minutes, thirty-five seconds. The elevator seemed determined to extend his torture, slowly ascending one floor at a time, stopping on every goddamn one to let someone off, or take someone on. Teddy kept his eyes fixed on the numbers as they changed. 11, 12, 14. Oh, thank god.

He hurried through the doors as soon as they slid open—or at least, as fast as he could go without knocking down the little old lady with the walker. He helped her out of the elevator first. But then he could go, striding quickly down the hallway, looking for the right room.

  1. There it was.



Teddy knocked.

There was silence for a horrible, excruciating moment that seemed to extend forever. Then something thumped, someone cursed, and a moment later the door opened. Billy stood on the other side, his hair wet— _he did shower—_ but his clothes back on. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, then stepped aside and let Teddy in.

The wastepaper basket in the little living room was on its side, probably the source of the noise a moment before.

“You came up,” Billy said, closing the door behind Teddy and sliding the little chain latch home. He sounded breathless, almost in awe, and Teddy cringed at the idea that he had done things to make Billy doubt him.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed my second chance for the world.” Forget exploring the suite. Teddy turned before they’d even made it out of the little half-hallway. He turned and pinned Billy up against the wall, his hands flat against it on either side of Billy’s head, one of his thighs finding its way between Billy’s.

He kissed Billy, kissed him like he was starving and Billy was manna, heaven-sent.

Billy groaned against his mouth and then opened to him, his hands trailing down Teddy’s chest to tug up his shirt, untuck his undershirt and slide underneath it, his palms and fingers flat against Teddy’s stomach. He parted his legs and trapped Teddy’s thigh there, his dick already partway hard and pushing insistently against Teddy’s hip as they ground against each other.

He was heat and firmness, all angles and fierce, bright energy.

Teddy sank into him, died in his lips and his tongue, dove into the sweet slick of Billy’s mouth and would stay there forever, kissing, tasting, nibbling at the corners of his lips, their bodies riding rough and hard against each other.

Eventually he had to stop, gasp for breath and get his bearings, his body reduced to a tangle of firing nerve endings. Billy groaned, yearned up toward him, his arms around Teddy’s neck and his body locked tight against him. He hooked one leg around Teddy’s and hauled him in closer, rocked his body up so that Teddy could feel the heavy, thick slide of Billy’s hard-on against his stomach.

“What do you like?” Teddy asked, his voice cracking before he could get it under control. He bit lightly on Billy’s lower lip when he didn’t answer fast enough. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Tell me. Rough, gentle, topping?”

“Just about anything from the basic menu,” Billy sank his fingers into Teddy’s hair, then slid his hands down Teddy’s neck, his back, exploring and stroking. “Not into kink. I want to suck you again,” he blurted out, urgency in his voice, and yearning. “I can do it so much better than I did. I want to make you feel amazing. Your turn.”

“I—” Teddy blushed which was ridiculous considering the way Billy was running his hands down over Teddy’s ass, putting delicious, amazing pressure between his cheeks. “I can’t stop thinking about fucking you,” he confessed.

“Oh my _God_ yes,” Billy answered. His hands clenched tight on Teddy’s ass and Billy almost convulsed, his head tipping back to bare his throat to Teddy. “I like both,” he kept talking as Teddy licked a wet stripe up the long golden column of his throat. “I hope to God you do too, but you fucking me—yeah, that’s good. Let’s do that. Right now.” 

That was when he dropped his foot back down to the floor, unwound himself from around Teddy, leaving Teddy’s aching cock without any pressure against it, nothing more than the way his pants were pulling tight. Billy took Teddy’s hand and half-guided half-dragged him into the bedroom of the hotel suite.

He’d done more than shower while he waited for Teddy. The massive bed was turned down, the lights dimmed, small votive candles flickering on the nightstands on either side. A room service tray sat on the dresser, a pot sitting on it, another candle flickering underneath. He glanced around quickly, but there was no wine bucket, no fancy drinks.

“No drinking,” Billy promised. “Not tonight.”

“What are you up to?” Teddy breathed out, relief and anticipation creating a potent cocktail in his blood. A huge part of him wanted to say ‘fuck this’ and take Billy to bed right now, no other distractions. The rest of him was curious as hell.

The little ceramic pot was filled with molten chocolate, the smell hitting him as he got closer. That answered the question of what was beneath the silver cover—fruit, bread, a pair of long-handled forks.

“You’re wonderfully weird,” he said out loud, fondness thick in his voice.

“Leave that for later,” Billy urged, hands slipping under Teddy’s arms and up across his chest. “It’ll keep.”

“Good point.”

Clothes hit the floor fast after that, Teddy only pausing for a moment to savor the longing, the exquisite burning need, before he popped the button on Billy’s trousers and pushed them off his slim hips. There he was, straining against the snug fabric of his briefs. The hunger rose in Teddy’s gut, low and hot. He dropped to his knees, groaning, pressed his mouth against Billy’s cock and breathed him in.

Billy pushed his briefs off, kicked them away, and Teddy curled his fingers around Billy’s naked hips. He hadn’t had a good look at Billy last time; now, like this, tracing his tongue slowly along the vein that throbbed on the underside of Billy’s hard-on—he was the most beautiful thing Teddy had ever seen.

He could easily spend hours like this, running his lips over the head of Billy’s dick, stroking him with his tongue, tasting the sweet beads of precome that spread through his senses like ambrosia.

Billy made sobbing, groaning noises above him, his hands working in Teddy’s hair, thumbs pressing against his jaw, moving, restless, like Billy always was, his hips rocking as he chased the sensations Teddy was doling out in small teasing doses.

“Please,” Billy begged. Teddy’s cock jumped, so hard he could hammer in nails with it and still trying to get harder at the edge of desperation in Billy’s voice. “Please, Teddy, _please._ ” His hips jerked and Teddy took him in, wrapped his lips around Billy’s thick cock and sucked.

He pressed his tongue up, dragged out slow, the weight and pressure so perfect, the musk, taste and smell overwhelming.

There, and again, Billy filled him, pressed inside, and Teddy lost track of everything except the need to suck and taste, to take Billy in his mouth and tease those sobbing gasps from his lips.

Billy cried out, his whole body spasmed in Teddy’s hands. His fingers dug deep into Teddy’s shoulders and he came, hot and salt-sour, filling Teddy’s mouth. Teddy swallowed around him, held Billy close, opened his throat as much as he could and took Billy deep.

There were tears stinging his eyes and his body burned. Billy folded down around him and curled into Teddy’s lap, holding him tight. Billy licked deep into Teddy’s mouth, flickering brushes of his lips that could have been him tasting himself in the droplets there.

“Thank you,” Billy murmured, his body sliding against Teddy’s, his hands restless over Teddy’s chest, his back. “Thank you.”

Teddy laughed, catching Billy around the waist and hauling him up to his feet in one smooth move. “I’m not even remotely done with you yet.”

“Talk dirty to me,” Billy purred, delighted. He walked backwards, taking Teddy with him, until his knees bumped against the bed and they toppled into it together.

Billy kissed Teddy deeply from within the tangle of arms and legs. He wrapped his hand around Teddy’s poor, neglected dick and stroked him, his hand tight, so tight, the pleasure like sparks of static, lightning streaking up his spine, and he could do this, prop himself up over Billy and take it like this- so good-  but: “I want you in me,” Billy urged. “Come on.”

 _Shit._ Teddy paused, hanging his head and trying to find his words again. “Condoms,” he said mournfully. “Lube- I don’t have anything with me. I didn’t think I would even see you, never mind this.”

Billy flapped a hand in the direction of the bedside table, the candle there flickering with the air movement. “Top drawer. The drugstore in the lobby knows what people need in emergency hotel situations.”

“You really are amazing,” Teddy said sincerely. He sat up and Billy sat up with him, blowing a raspberry on Teddy’s stomach when he leaned to haul the drawer open. 

“I never was an Eagle Scout.”

“I’d make a ‘come prepared’ joke, but I can’t think when you’re stroking my balls like that.”

“How about like this?”

“Hnnnng,” Teddy replied obligingly.

The condom went on easy, even though it had been ages since- when had he last hooked up with anyone? It wasn’t worth counting back that far.

How could he ever have predicted, even this morning, that he would end up here—in a king-sized bed, his mouth tasting of come and his fingers slick with lube, one of Will Lehnsherr’s legs hooked over his shoulder? One finger went in easy, and Billy was so hot inside, so tight and he groaned so gorgeously, arching his back and sinking his fingers into the pillows behind his head.

Teddy bit his lip, hard. He could whip off the condom and jerk himself right here to that unbelievable sight. Add in the feel of Billy squeezing tight around his finger, and he’d be gone within seconds.

_Hold on. This will feel so good if you can hold on._

Two fingers, then three, Billy resisted and relaxed, took him in. He squirmed and begged beneath him as Teddy crooked his fingers, sought out the nub of Billy’s prostate, watched with satisfaction as Billy’s dick jerked, started to rise again, the red flush of arousal spreading dark down Billy’s chest.

“Come on, you cruel bastard,” Billy ground out, his teeth clenched. “Get in me.”

“Or what? You’ll kick me out of bed?” Teddy slipped his fingers out of Billy and ignored the long groan that followed. More lube, then, and he slicked himself up even as he teased, tracing circles around Billy’s hole.

“I can be mean,” Billy gasped, grabbing for Teddy’s thigh and trying to pull him closer. “I can be really mean.”

“Unh-hunh.” Teddy bit the inside of Billy’s knee, propped up on his shoulder, and then slowly, carefully—biting the inside of his own cheek to stop himself from getting completely lost in the overwhelming rush of sensation—he pushed inside.

Tight, tight hot and slick, Billy clenching down around him until his deep, shuddering breaths helped him relax. Then he opened, slowly, Teddy moving in tiny rocking surges, in and out, just enough to start to build friction, let Billy set the pace for now, until he was ready-

“Are you okay?” he checked in.

“It’s good,” Billy nodded, his head arching back and his throat bared. “So good. God, Teddy, it’s been so long. I need you harder, I need—” whatever he needed was cut off by the cry that ripped from his throat when Teddy moved, rolling his hips and pushing deep, so deep into Billy that he bottomed out.

He had thought it felt good before but this was so much better, their bodies rocking, Billy tight as a vice around him when he pulled out, Billy’s thighs and hips hard angles and muscle under Teddy’s hands, his dick jerking as Teddy fucked him.

Teddy wrapped his hand around Billy’s dick, the remnants of lube making his grip slick.

Billy pumped into his hand, the red flush creeping down as far as his nipples now, sweat stinging the backs of Teddy’s knees.

He fucked into Billy, lifted Billy’s hips and buried himself in Billy’s body, mouths locked together when he leaned forward, his hand moving on Billy’s dick.

This, this, this was what he needed, everything he’d been missing, the feeling of being so close to another person, under their skin and inside them.

Billy cried out his name and he slowed down, just a bit, tried to angle himself better, just like that, and again, the sounds Billy made different with the new sensation.

But he couldn’t last, not with this sight, Billy spread out below him, his cock fierce, hard and flushed dark red, cut and proud, big enough to fill Teddy’s hand. What would that cock feel like inside _him_? Stretching him open, splitting him apart from the inside out?

Teddy hurtled over the cliff on that thought, convulsing around Billy. White fireworks exploded behind his eyes and fire tore through his veins. Lightning coalesced in his spine and burst out in all directions, the hot pulsing the most beautiful sensation in the world.

“Please,” Billy keened softly, wrapping his arms around Teddy’s neck and holding him there, holding him in place. Billy thrust down on Teddy again, even though he could feel himself starting to soften.

Teddy stroked him hard, closing his hand tight. Billy came again, his body shaking and only a little come landing on his stomach, pearling in the dark scattering of hair.

“You’re so good,” Teddy murmured, sliding out and disposing of the condom over the side of the bed. He kissed Billy, kissed him again and again, languor sinking into every cell of his body, delicious and hazy. “So good to me. So hot. I want to do this again and again, make love to you every way we can think of trying.”

“I’ll invest in a kama sutra,” Billy said muzzily, wrapping, octopus-like, around Teddy, and nestling his head down on Teddy’s chest. “I lo- I love your _dick_. That is a very good dick. That is a dick I want to have inside me all the time.”

“All the time might make work difficult.” But the traded kisses and the soft caresses of hands over sweaty skin, the salt taste of kissing Billy as his hair dried, all of it blended together into a symphony of sensation, pure tactile nirvana.

Sooner or later, he would have to go clean up, move to another less sweaty part of the bed, maybe even get up the energy to try the chocolate gently simmering away in the far corner of the room.

He stayed where he was though, blissfully mind-numb and with the faint aftershocks of pleasure and desire sparking along his nerves. Billy shifted a little, his hair tickling Teddy’s nose. He mouthed at Teddy’s chest blindly, his arms tight around Teddy’s waist.

This was exactly where Teddy needed to be. Later, he would do all of those other things. But right now, he was totally and completely content.

* * *

“Are you sure this isn’t going to spoil your diet?” Billy laughed as Teddy trailed a finger full of warm chocolate down his ribs and followed that with his tongue. “Chocolate can’t be on your meal plan.”

Teddy’s mouth closed over Billy’s nipple and he bit down, lightly, sending shocks of pleasure rushing through Billy’s body. “Fuck diets. Today’s a cheat day.”

It was hard to tell what, exactly, was hotter—Teddy cursing, or the way he drew curlicues with the tip of his tongue across Billy’s hypersensitive skin. Between the blow job when they’d first burst in to the bedroom, the thorough fucking that had immediately followed and now the lazy way Teddy ran his mouth over Billy’s stomach, every nerve ending he had was either firing off together or had given up and surrendered.

He shivered, nipples tight, and Teddy blew warm air across Billy’s cool exposed skin.

(It wasn’t fair; despite everything Teddy had said downstairs, Billy knew he was still the one who had been most in the wrong — and now he was the one soaking up all of Teddy’s attention.)

Billy sat up and rolled Teddy over onto his back, Teddy laughing with surprise as he landed amid the massive pile of white pillows on the other side of the enormous bed. “Too much for you?” he teased, and Billy shrugged.

“Maybe I just want to get my hands on some of that fondue for myself.”

“Oh, you’re only after the fondue?” Teddy’s grin was wide and open, no hesitation or worry there at all anymore.

“Mmhm.” Billy slung his leg over Teddy and reached for the pot of warm, silken melted chocolate. He dipped two fingers in and traced a design down the center of Teddy’s stomach, no hair there to slow him down or interrupt the line. He followed that with his mouth, dropping sharp kisses and bites down Teddy’s chest, his stomach, dipped the tip of his tongue into Teddy’s navel and continued on downward. “Where’d your chest hair go?” he did ask a little mournfully.

“I had a shoot yesterday,” Teddy replied, an apologetic note in his voice. “The Calvin art directors always wanted me waxed. Thank God that gig’s over; I’ve had enough of crazy little Ukrainian ladies ripping my hair out by the root.”

“It looks good like this, at least,” Billy offered. He smoothed his hands over the broad expanse of Teddy’s shoulders and chest, silken and smooth beneath his fingers. There was something to be said for the feel of his skin, that softness that cried out for massage oil—or for coming across him in white streaks, and dirtying up that perfect, glorious view.

He hadn’t looked at it before, too caught up in the moment, but now there was nothing stopping him from taking a closer look at the line of script that wound up and over Teddy’s hip. The black tattoo was almost too delicate for his frame, carefully placed so that it would be completely hidden by most clothing.

 _Mark Altman – Captain – 078-05-1120 – 3 rd battalion 1st Marines_, the first line read, and Billy traced the tip of his finger across the carefully ink-etched words.

_His brother? He said he was an only child. His dad?_

The second line was worse, making Billy’s breath catch in his throat when the understanding hit.

_11.11.1964-11.7.2004 ~ Semper Fideles_

_Oh. Oh no._

It only took a second to do the math.

“You were ten?” Billy asked quietly, and Teddy’s breathing stilled above him.

“Eleven,” came the quiet reply. “Mom and I settled in New York after that.”

Billy placed a reverent kiss on Teddy’s hipbone, trying hard not to think of the grieving kid he must once have been. “I’m sorry.”

Teddy’s hand in his hair, gentle and warm, was all the reply he needed. Billy rested his forehead against Teddy’s hip, feeling his nearness and hopefully sending some of that solid support back.

It had been different, for him; his dad was still alive, even if incommunicado. Billy and Tommy had been forced to deal with the knowledge that he was out there in the world, and had happily replaced them with his new family. But if they wanted to, like _really_ wanted to, the chance to make a connection again was still there.

Teddy had lost his father forever.

“It was a long time ago,” Teddy said after a moment, his thumb finding its way to the corner of Billy’s mouth. “It’s okay, I promise. I’ve made my peace.”

Permission given, Billy turned his head and parted his lips, drew Teddy’s thumb between them. He flicked the tip of his tongue around the pad, sucked lightly, teasing and sweet.

Teddy groaned and Billy laid a string of little love bites along Teddy’s lower stomach, the gentle curve there one of the only even slightly soft things about him. Teddy’s hips rose slowly and his dick jerked a little, semi-hard and resting, thick in its uncut glory, against his thigh.

The rich sweetness of the chocolate on Teddy’s skin flooded Billy’s senses, dark with an undertone of musk.

“Why can’t life always be like this?” he asked wistfully, the words coming out before he could rethink them. “You and me, alone, honest and uncomplicated, naked and sexy.”

He traced his tongue across Teddy’s balls, under and around, a faint chocolate line following the path of his mouth. Teddy made a soft noise again, his dick twitching, and Billy smiled against his skin before pushing himself up on his arms and moving back to Teddy’s side.  

“It’s a nice thought,” Teddy said, sliding his hand into Billy’s hair and pulling him into a kiss, everything chocolate-flavored, thick and sweet. “No pressure, no publicity, just dessert and orgasms,” he teased. “But it can’t last forever.”

Billy licked into his mouth to shut him up. “I don’t see why not,” he said stoutly.

Teddy poked Billy’s lower lip back in from the pout he was trying on for size. “Because that’s not your life. And I’m getting to a point where it won’t be mine, either. David, Ms. Frost, your grandfather, the studios—they all have their own priorities, and schedules, and long-term plans. This all started because you’re supposed to be campaigning for the Oscar nomination, remember?”

He remembered, and the whole notion stuck, hard and jagged, right at the base of his throat. He pressed up against Teddy’s naked body, damp with sweat and spit, chocolate and come. He wrapped himself around that beautiful man, the faint echoes of arousal slowly warming deep in his core. No-one could lay claim to Teddy but him, dammit, and _he_ was sick and tired of being pushed around.

“Fuck them,” Billy declared loudly. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand splayed out across Teddy’s chest, feeling him breathe. “I mean it. When it comes down to it, who’s the reason they’re employed? We are. They’re using us to make their own fortunes, just like we’re using them to keep our careers moving. But that doesn’t mean they get to control every last aspect of our lives.”

“Doesn’t it? I thought that was in the contract,” Teddy replied dryly. But his eyes stayed locked on Billy’s, and he was listening.

“No.” The idea emerged bright and fully-formed, hope as blinding as the noon sun and his words picking up speed as he spoke. “And I don’t mean to let them. I want to date you, be your boyfriend, not just your regular pap-stroll companion.”

“You’ve got something in mind, don’t you?” Teddy cocked his head. “I can see that look in your eye.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Sure,” Teddy answered without missing a beat. “But how did the egg get inside the cantaloupe?”

Billy snickered, and Teddy laughed, and for a moment it really did all seem possible to pull off.

“But seriously. First, believe me when I say that if you want me to, I’ll buy a full page in Variety to announce that I’m head over heels for you. I’ll tell the world that we’re meant to be,” Billy said, and in the moment, running on impulse and endorphins, he meant every word.

Teddy snorted. “I think that’s overkill.”

“Maybe. But what if we tried the other way.”

“I’m in. Do we have enough lube?”

“Not what I meant.”

“Oh, darn.”

“You don’t have to move your hand though.”

A few minutes later, Teddy’s hands pinned under Billy’s knees so that he couldn’t tickle anymore, and a few lingering kisses still warm on his lips, Billy found his train of thought again.

“The problem is, if we tell our teams that we’re together, like, _really_ together, they’re going to find some way to use it. We’ll be stalked even worse than before.” He settled back on his heels and Teddy freed his hands, running them lightly over Billy’s thighs.

“Sure, but what’s our other option?” Teddy asked, an eyebrow up.

“Don’t say anything at all.” Billy nodded at Teddy’s skeptical look. “I’m serious. Tell David and Emma… tell them that we’re back on track and ready for the fake dating thing, just like they negotiated for us before. But this—” he gestured between them, running his hands over Teddy’s naked chest, “stays between us until we’re good and ready to share.”

Teddy mulled it over, but he didn’t look convinced. “So, let me get this straight. You want us to be together.”

Billy nodded very enthusiastically.

“But tell everyone working for us that we’re not really together.”

“Right. Keep our privacy, at least for a little while.”

“While allowing _them_ to tell the media that we’ve always been together.”

“… yes?”

Teddy snorted, shaking his head. “Your brain works in astonishing ways. Why not just… date?”

“Because then Emma will be trying to micromanage our real relationship, and I don’t want her anywhere near _feelings_ ,” Billy said adamantly. “If we give her a fake relationship to screw around with, she’ll stay happy. Then we can do whatever makes _us_ happy, because we’ll both know that none of the public bullshit matters.”

“Or we could just tell her where to stick it,” Teddy suggested, obviously not taking him seriously.

Billy shook his head, a rush of guilt at the thought of outright and total rebellion keeping him from considering the possibility. “I can’t do that.”

“You set the imperial march as her ringtone. You and Tommy actively go out of your way to make her crazy on a regular basis. Why is this really any different?”

“It’s complicated,” Billy muttered, but from the way Teddy looked at him, that answer wasn’t going to fly.

Would Teddy let him off the hook, or would he wait Billy out? And what would he do with the information when he had it? Public record stuff was one thing, family secrets were another thing entirely.

One of those rare moments of clarity swept through him then, starting with the places where their bodies touched and ending with a small, clear voice deep inside his ear.

 _If you want to keep him, you’re going to have to try trusting him._  

“Our mom…she’s an amazing person,” Billy said firmly, setting his jaw. “But when we were kids—after our sperm donor bailed on her—she kind of checked out. She didn’t leave us, not physically, but she wasn’t really _there_ all the time. And Grand-dad was out here doing whatever the hell he does. Uncle Pete stepped in and took care of all three of us, but it’s not the same as having a mom.”

“So when Emma showed up,” Teddy prompted him, making the connections without Billy needing to spell it out.

“She’s Grand-dad’s proxy, might as well be family. Whether she meant to make that kind of bond or not, there was a part of us—of me, I guess—that needed her. That maybe still does. And doesn’t. To be brutally practical, I’d be up shit creek professionally without her. I owe her everything, that way. But she thinks that makes her in charge of every part of my life, including the things that are none of her business.” His face tightened, the push-pull inside him familiar dead weight. Billy might need to keep leaning on Emma Frost for a lot of things, but she couldn’t have this. She couldn’t take _him._

“If we’re going to have a shot at making a relationship work—and I really, really want to make it work—we’ve got to kick everyone else out for a while. How better than with a decoy?” 

“You’re nuts,” Teddy said fondly, his hands tightening on Billy’s thighs. “But I think I understand where you’re coming from. If you think it will take the pressure off, I’m willing to give it a try. But do you really think we can trick them for long?”

He’d won; that question was as good as a concession. He did have to wonder for a moment if Teddy would do it—he seemed to be friends with his manager, while Emma had always been a bossy thorn in Billy’s side. But this was all about letting go and trusting, right?

Right.

“I’ve gotta admit,” Billy said, a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. “I’m feeling pretty good about our chances.”

“Yeah?” Teddy echoed his smile.

Billy nodded, moving to press a line of kisses down Teddy’s collarbone, his sternum, the defined ridges of his abs. “Oh yeah.” This was a whole lot better than talking.

He drew Teddy’s cock into his mouth, nuzzled down into the tight blond curls while Teddy was still partly soft and Billy could hold him all in. He poured everything he had and everything he was into pleasuring Teddy, slick and hot and slow.

Teddy gasped, arched and groaned, his cock slowly coming back to life between Billy’s lips.

Billy had fucked before, he’d had sex; he’d even, once or twice, thought that he’d made love. But this was the first time he’d done all three in the same night. And he was never going to let this go.

* * *

Teddy’s intention had been to coax Billy back into bed after they’d showered, spend the last few hours before dawn curled around him in the kind of warm spooning that meant he belonged to someone. It hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. Teddy’s phone had started going off first, with David wanting to know where the hell he was and why he wasn’t at the party and had he been hit by a truck, or possibly mugged and left for dead.

Billy had good ears, sadly, and the look in his eyes when he muffled his laughter was enough to make Teddy grab one of the stupid hotel pillows and pummel the shit out of him with it.

Revenge had been sweet at least, as _Billy’s_ phone had started blowing up, Emma probably giving him hell about ducking out of the event just as badly as David had been pestering Teddy. From the hunted look in Billy’s eyes, he’d have been more than happy to fling the phone off the balcony and pretend it had gotten lost.

Four in the morning exits were not the kind of walk of shame Teddy had signed on for, especially when he had to be up in less than three hours. The ache in his muscles, though, and the scratches down his back, the little love bites that he’d spotted in the hotel mirror while pulling his clothes back on…

“Worth it,” he said aloud. Billy poked his head out from under the bed, one shoe in his hand, and cocked an eyebrow in Teddy’s direction.

“Say what?”

“You, this, us?” Teddy hazarded a try at the U-word and was rewarded with a brilliant grin from his childhood crush. Except … not. Will Lehnsherr from the magazine covers and the tv spots… he was a character, as sure as any other costume Billy had been putting on and taking off since childhood.

This guy, the one with the quirky smile and the hair that wanted to be in a permanent rumple, the one who was ticklish down the left side of his ribs and had drooled a little on the pillow, with the complicated family history and the serious trust problems—he was Billy. And that was the guy Teddy was falling for — _really_ falling for—a lot more quickly than he wanted to admit.

“Worth it, hunh?” Billy found his other shoe and sat up, smacking his knee against the bedframe and groaning. “Are you sure about that? I’m not exactly getting top marks for style here.”

“Unh-hunh. Because I only date Olympic gymnasts,” Teddy said sarcastically, reaching out a hand to grab Billy and pull him to his feet.

 _I’m hanging out with Will,_ he’d told David on the phone. _We’re sorting stuff out._

Talk about your understatement of the year. _Will’s going to keep me as his regular plus-one until after the Oscars. We’ll keep up the fiction,_ he’d lied to David, his tongue thick in his mouth and his stomach sour. _Tell the press whatever you want._

Did this count as a thing where he should be calling in TMZ to get photos of their escape?

Teddy held up his hand, flat and open, and Billy fit his palm against Teddy’s. His fingers were longer than Teddy’s, his hand slimmer, but his skin was just as warm and his arms as strong.

_No. This one is just for us._

“So what’s next?” Teddy asked, hesitating before breaking the silence. He tucked his fingers down and laced them through Billy’s, holding on, there in the dark before the sunrise. “Where do we go from here?”

“Back to bed, I wish,” Billy groaned, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “One day at a time, otherwise? I’ve got media crap this week, press stuff for _Vere Street_. Grand-dad’s making sure we do the big push before everyone breaks for holiday specials.” 

Teddy nodded slowly. “I’m filming. A music video thing, and rehearsals for the film. And then…” he trailed off. The holidays, and being apart just when they were starting to be together at all.

Did he dare? “I’m going back to New York,” he blurted out. “For Christmas with my mom. Why don’t you come with me? If you’re not busy.”

“To meet your mom at _Christmas?_ ” Billy echoed, looking vaguely horrified, which was not supposed to have been his reaction. “I don’t really do Christmas. Jewish.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Teddy backpedaled, letting go of Billy’s hand and trying not to let the sting show. “I thought it might be fun to get out of L.A. together.”

Billy’s expression went from startled and kind of suspicious to something more open and thoughtful. 

“My mom’s place isn’t big, but there’s always hotels if you don’t want to stay in Brooklyn. We could hit the museum and stuff, catch some movies, hang out without people bugging us. I promise I won’t make you sing carols.”

He was pushing it, yeah, but the idea was sounding better and better the more he talked about it. Billy seemed to be considering it, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah,” he said a moment later. “Yeah. I can probably even book an interview or something for when I’m there so that it looks like a work trip if D-Listed or someone gets a hold of it. But promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not sitting through any claymation Christmas specials. I hate those things.” And he grinned, that off-camera grin that was starting to feel like it might just be for Teddy alone. “But if you wanted to bring out some mistletoe, that could be okay.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”  

He’d have some explaining to do; do David, to his mother…  but the idea of snow, Billy in a beanie pulled down low over his ears, stupid things like renting skates- all the things he’d left behind that were still such a part of him, even now that he lived in the sunshine. It wasn’t greedy to want it all.

* * *

**Teddy: r you working?**

**Billy: press call. 5-10 minutes before anything starts**

**Billy: sitting at the table, waiting, waiting**

**Teddy: How’s SanFran?**

**Billy: Sunny, loud. Done three interviews already today.**

**Billy: outside I smile, inside I scream**

**Teddy: Poor baby**

**Teddy: having to work for a living**

**Billy: Everyone’s paying attention to Rob, not to me.**

**Billy: where r u?**

**Teddy: At home, thinking of you**

**Billy: oh?**

**Teddy: It’s hot in here… gonna take off my shirt**

**Billy: oh god**

**Billy: Don’t do this now**

**Teddy: No? I might just go ahead and take off my pants, too.**

**Teddy: A shower would feel really good, getting all wet and naked**

**Billy: I hate you**

**Billy: Are you really naked?**

**Billy: Shit. Reporters are here.**

**Teddy: how much time have you got?**

**Billy: none. No more time. Have to go. I hate my life.**

[five minutes later]

**Teddy: I want to eat your ass**

**Teddy: Your entire ass**

**Teddy: Om nom**

[ten minutes later]

**Billy: Emma almost saw that, you unbelievable asshole**

**Billy: I kicked my phone under the table to make her go away**

**Billy: then I hit my head when I went to get it**

**Billy: and I’m pretty sure someone took photos**

**Billy: It was probably the enquirer**

**Teddy: Sorry not sorry**

**Billy: Send dick pics and all is forgiven.**

* * *

There was little in the world worse than press tours.

Not working at all might be worse, but not by much.

Billy had smiled until his cheeks hurt and then smiled some more, shook hands and memorized reporters’ names, fired off the carefully prepped talking points about the film, and what it was like to work on set. And oh yes, can’t forget the single new factoid or list of carefully vetted ‘behind the scenes gossip’ that had been handed over to put into every interview, so that each one would have something slightly different (“exclusive”) than the last.

One thing made this tour easier to get through than others—the random buzzes against his leg which meant another text from Teddy. Billy hadn’t made the mistake of opening them right before having to go on camera again, not after the almost-debacle. But keeping his face straight when reading them, so that Emma didn’t see him grinning and get suspicious, was harder than he’d imagined.

She’d frowned at him when he’d recanted on his refusal of the whole ‘fake dating thing,’ stared him down like he was a bug on a microscope slide, or some particularly fascinating breed of mold spore. And then she hadn’t asked him why, which was concerning in and of itself. But he’d overheard her on the phone to Teddy’s agent, and a note about reservations at the Boa Steakhouse had appeared in his calendar, so he supposed the paparazzi walks were back on.

The real-fake-dates and the prospect of pretending to duck from photographers weren’t the reasons he was aching to get back to L.A., either. Teddy couldn’t meet him at the airport—too obvious—but he had the buzzcode for Billy’s condo now, and security had his name. All Billy had to do was text him when the dumb plane finally landed and Teddy would be making his way over.

Any amount of time was too long to be apart when they had just gotten together, frankly. Worse yet, Christmas was only a couple of days away, and Teddy would be flying up to New York without him.

“Flight crew, prepare for landing.” The speaker blared to life above Billy’s head, and he checked his seatbelt out of sheer force of habit. Emma leaned over from her seat, the first class pods much further apart than the mashed-together rows in the sections behind. “Call your grandfather when we touch down. He wants to talk to you about dinner plans for Thursday night.”

Thursday night, the reason Billy wasn’t turning around again to fly back out with Teddy on Tuesday. No, Billy would have to suffer through Dinner With Grandfather, the ridiculous Christmas eve tradition that had apparently started years ago when not even California restaurants were open.

Forget ordering Chinese food and going to a movie—the semi-traditional way for New York Jews to ‘celebrate’ Christmas was too déclassé for the man who owned half of Hollywood. Billy’s Christmas Eve would involve a catered dinner with his family followed by port and interrogations with the old man. Meanwhile, Teddy would be… what? Making gingerbread houses and hanging lights for his mom? That seemed wrong, but Billy hadn’t exactly asked him about his own traditions.

“I will,” he promised, distracted by the ground racing up to meet them. He braced for the impact of the landing gear, like always, and like it always had, the plane touched down lightly and rolled to a smooth and easy stop by the gate.

The first contact he pulled up when he fished out his phone wasn’t Grand-dad, but Teddy. He angled the screen away from Emma so that she wouldn’t see the name, and she frowned at him before turning back to her papers.

**Billy: Landed at LAX**

**Teddy: You sure it’s okay to come over?**

**Billy: Tommy’s in Miami until Tuesday. We’ve got two days clear.**

**Teddy: I’ll be there before you are.**

“William?”

This was an un-official official stop, part of the tour, so there would be press waiting. Billy tucked his phone away, raked his hands through his hair and got himself ready. Deep breath, public face on. _Here we go_.

Emma’s usual security goons met them at the gate, the unobtrusive-obvious suits and black glasses marking them as Escorting A VIP. The crowds parted before them and the flashbulbs started, all of it ridiculous (still thrilling, desperately so, on some deep, needy level).

“Will, over here!” “How was the trip, Will?”

He ignored the paparazzi, even though it would have been Emma’s team who had arranged for them to be there. His job was to look vaguely put upon, caught off-guard, yet still approachable and friendly. He waved to a couple of actual fans who appeared in the handful of gawkers, girls who snapped their phone cameras and him and giggled.

_The private person keeps up the fiction of the public one—there’s no such thing as a private life in this business._

Fuck that. He wasn’t buying into that part of the lie. He deserved more.

* * *

**Admin Subforum > Private!**

 

 **Lindasyy** | AHHHHHHHHHH!! Oh my God, you guys, WE SAW HIM! Cate and I were at LAX this afternoon and Will was getting off the plane! And not only that. There were a bunch of photogs there, and Cate elbowed one guy right in the side but we got up to the front, and Will saw us. And he WAVED. I'm gonna die. I got some video on my phone and I'm gonna upload it once I get on wifi. I can't get over it, he's _so cute_ in person.

 

 **Lys** | You can't just leave us hanging like this!! What was he wearing? Was he with Tom/ Was he with _Theo?_ Did he say anything to you? I wish he would come out to the east coast for something - it'll be a million years before I can afford to go to LA for a vacation. UGH! (Is he eally 5'11, or is that just for his bio? When Mandy dug up Theo's vital stats from his old look book it said he was 6'2, but in some photos they look like they have more than a 3" height difference. We must know. For science!)

 

 **Lindasyy** | I'm sorry! I have to get to my mom's place before I can put the video in dropbox and I'll do a public post then, but I had to tell you guys first. Okay, okay. He was with Emma Frost and a few of their usual security guys -- I saw the bald guy with the tattoo who was at the Vere Street premiere, and the really hot black guard who was with Tom and Kate this summer. Will was wearing a green button-down shirt (I think the one he on in the set pic from September when he was leaving the couns studio, open over a gray t-shirt, and the Skinny Jeans of Sex.

Sunnies on his head, no stubble. :( It's hard to tell height and stuff? But he's taller than Emma for sure, and maybe a little bit shorter than Bald Security Guy. Do we know his name? Maybe we can find out his height and compare?

And no, he didn't stop to do autographs or talk to fans or anything; I don't think security would have let him. But he looked RIGHT AT US and he smiled and waved, and my life is complete.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional vulnerability is a lot harder than it looks, but some things are worth the effort. Or, meeting the mother isn't as bad as Billy expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With endless thanks to Cris-art for art, support and unbelievable talent. You are my muse. And to mytsunami for advice and corrections on Rroma culture and dialects. Many, many thanks. 
> 
> Permission for remixes, fanart, and other derivative works is given freely, on condition that credit is given to the original work & you link me so I can swoon. <3

This was more like it.

Coming home to Teddy hanging out in the lobby was the best welcome-back present Billy ever could have gotten. It only took a couple of seconds after the door closed behind them to unwrap him.

He hadn’t been misremembering, or making things up, either—Teddy’s hands on him, the taste of his mouth, the way their bodies moved together, fit together, everything about it was even better than the fantasies he’d been reliving while away.

More than that, though. There was something beautiful in just sitting on the couch with Teddy sprawled nearby, both of them dealing with work stuff but sharing space. It was soothing, calming in a way Billy hadn’t quite expected. And when Teddy slipped his hand along Billy’s bare foot and up under the hem of his jeans, the memories they made on that couch then were enough to drive that first horrible encounter out of Billy’s head forever.

Would there ever come a point where the little moments would become stale or invisible? Billy’s heart raced doubletime now when Teddy handed him a cup of coffee, at the soft rumble of his voice when he murmured in Billy’s ear, at the way his smile flashed across his face, blinding and beautiful, like lightning, or the moment of a firework exploding.

He was turning from a cynic into a romantic, and it was all Teddy Altman’s fault.

Right now, though, he was asleep, curled around Billy with one arm draped over Billy’s waist, knees pressed snug against the back of Billy’s legs. He was growing out his hair for his latest project and the ends of it tickled the back of Billy’s neck, stirring with his gentle, steady breathing.

They were alone, tucked in away from the world, and Billy was wrapped in the arms of a gorgeous man—who for some unfathomable reason, adored him.

Everything outside this space seemed so inconsequential. Press tours and interviews, his mother emailing to remind him about holiday plans, Emma and her schedules, learning a new script and figuring out how to turn himself inside out and become someone else one more time… it all faded in the burning light of what was _real_.

No force on earth could impel him to move now.

Not even the phone ringing. Once, twice, Billy ignored the shrill blast of sound from the nightstand. Teddy moved, yawned against the nape of his neck, and snuggled in closer. “Whozzat?” is what it sounded like he said, but Billy didn’t sit up to check.

“Don’t care,” he declared, tugging Teddy’s arms back around himself again.

The phone stopped ringing, then the sound of Billy’s cell phone started up from the living room. _“I think I’m a clone now…”_

Teddy moved again, propping himself up on one elbow and pushing his hair out of his face. “Is that-”

“Tommy, yeah,” Billy sighed. Then it might be important. He hauled himself out of bed and stumbled naked into the living room, their clothes still scattered across the floor where they’d landed the previous evening. The microwave clock said it was nine am, so that wasn’t terrible. Cell phone, cell phone- where?

There. He grabbed it before the ringing stopped. “Tommy? S’up?”

“Did I get you out of bed?” Tommy’s voice echoed down the line. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “I’m on my way home. Buzz me up when I get there, yeah? I lost my key.”

“You’re in L.A. already?” Billy repeated the obvious with dawning horror. Teddy paused in the doorway and listened. “What are you doing back?” Teddy turned on his heel and dove for his clothes, vanishing from the doorway.

“It’s Tuesday, buttmunch. Just promise me you’re home and can let me in.” 

“Yeah, yeah sure. I’m home. How far away are you now?”

“Ten minutes? Depends how fucked the freeway is.”

“Ten minutes,” Billy repeated aloud. “See you then.” He hung up, and heard a faint sigh of relief from the living room.

Teddy’s head was halfway through the neckhole of his shirt when he reappeared, grabbing his jeans from the chair in the corner of the bedroom. “I can’t believe I lost track of time like that,” he said apologetically. “I should go before he gets home, I suppose.” He didn’t really sound like he meant it.

“I’ll tell him, but not yet,” Billy pleaded. “Because he’ll tell Kate, and Kate means well but she’ll probably tell Cass, and then someone will overhear or hack someone else’s text messages and we’ll lose control over the whole thing.”

It didn’t erase the dubious and faintly disappointed look on Teddy’s face, but he sighed, stuffed his script and clothes from the last couple of days into his backpack, and stood. “It’s always about control with you, isn’t it?” he teased _(he wasn’t teasing)_ , running his fingertips down Billy’s arm.

“Might be,” Billy agreed, tipping his head back to look Teddy in the eye. Teddy’s hand circled his wrist and squeezed, teasing, keeping Billy in place with the strength in his arm alone. A surge of arousal distracted him, the thought of Teddy pinning him down properly, _forcing_ Billy to let it all go-

“You’re stalling,” he laughed breathlessly, his nudity and his dick’s pretty much immediate jump-to-attention betraying how well that strategy was working.

“Maybe.”

“That’s the absolute last thing we need Tommy walking in on, whether we tell him soon or not.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Teddy grumbled, and he let Billy’s arm go, but not without claiming his mouth for a last kiss. “But I’m going on record now saying this sneaking around stuff is going to backfire.”

“You have the right to one I told you so,” Billy promised. “Now go? He’ll be here any minute.”

Teddy rolled his eyes but finished packing, swinging around to make sure he’d grabbed everything. He tossed something at Billy and he caught it reflexively, only realizing once his jeans were in his hands that he was still naked.

He hauled them on and buttoned them. “I’ll call you later?”

“This is stupid,” Teddy groaned, but he kissed Billy back, deeply and thoroughly, before heading out the door.

“He’ll see you in the lobby – take the back stairs!”

Teddy changed directions and made for the stairwell instead, his backpack slung over his shoulder and the hallway clear.

The downstairs buzzer went and Billy checked the video feed—Tommy in the lobby, bouncing restlessly from foot to foot, and the concierge desk empty. He buzzed Tommy in, sagged back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. Until he actually looked at the room, anyway. The pizza box on the counter could be explained, but two glasses, two sets of plates in the dish drainer, the cushion half-off the couch from yesterday- and hickeys on his chest.

“Shit fuck goddammit!” T-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt- where the hell was all his laundry?

He had the dishes put away and the box in recycling, with just enough time to jam the cushion back on the couch and fling himself on it, struggling to get the shirt down over his chest, before the door opened.

_Made it._ He got to keep his secret for one more day, keep this budding love deep inside his heart where it could grow—instead of being forced out into the light, dissected and the scattered pieces used to build a brand instead of a life.

There was a script sitting upside down and open on the back of the couch and he grabbed it.

“Morning,” Tommy grunted, and closed the door behind him. He dropped his bag on the floor in the hallway, kicked off his shoes, and only then looked up, pushing sunglasses back up on his head and frowning. “What’s with you?”

“What do you mean?” Billy asked, as innocently as he could possibly manage. Had he done up his jeans? He couldn’t check his fly without Tommy seeing the movement.

“You’re holding your script upside down, for one,” Tommy pointed out.

“Hunh. So it is. Not awake yet,” Billy lied glibly, turning the stapled booklet around. “Explains why it didn’t make sense.”

“There’s something deeply wrong with you, on the brainstem level.” Tommy crossed the living room heading for the kitchen. “Want coffee?”

“Hell yeah.” The moment he vanished behind the dividing wall, Billy sat up and gave himself a quick once-over. Pants done up, shirt covering any marks on his skin, nothing else on him that screamed ‘48 solid hours of debauchery.’ Good. The next thing he desperately needed to do was get back to his own room and clean up any evidence that he’d had Teddy over, but Tommy was coming out of the kitchen and he didn’t have time.

Tommy grabbed his bag and headed toward the stairs up to his bedroom suite, the faint bubbling sounds of the coffee percolator barely audible in the other room. “Gonna shower and stuff. Are you in meetings today?”

“Yeah, but not ‘til this afternoon.” And Billy had apparently pulled it off, because Tommy was letting the questions go. Score one for team personal privacy.

Except that Tommy stopped, looked down at the floor, then ducked down behind the couch. The hell? Billy pushed himself up and looked over the back. Tommy stood up just as Billy leaned over, and Tommy had a pair of Teddy’s briefs hanging from the end of his pen.

Tommy looked at the underwear like it was a biohazard, holding it out with the pen and waving them at Billy. “Anything you wanna tell me?” he asked archly.

_This is payback for every time I’ve ever teased him about Kate. Damn it._

“They’re… mine,” Billy lied.

Tommy eyeballed the striped briefs that Billy had peeled off of Teddy with his teeth not twenty-four hours before, the high cut on the thigh and the designer label not something Billy had ever worn in his life. “No, they’re really not.”

“Found them in the laundry?” Billy tried, but that was even weaker than the first lie, and Tommy was even better at knowing when Billy was full of shit than Emma was.

Tommy came back around the couch and sat on the other end, jabbing the pen and underwear at Billy until he finally got fed up and grabbed them out of the air. Billy shoved Teddy’s briefs in his back pocket, not looking at his brother, his cheeks hot.

“So you had a guy over; so what?” Tommy asked, arching an eyebrow. “You think I’m going to give you shit about finally getting some kind of a social life again? Did you actually pick up somewhere, or was he a dial-a-date?”

“Shut up. It’s not like that.” Billy closed his mouth, not ready at all to tell him what it _was_ actually like.

The silence seemed to slow down and if Billy watched, he could see the moment realization kicked in behind Tommy’s eyes.

“You didn’t.” Tommy narrowed his eyes at Billy. “Altman?”

Billy sagged, setting his chin on his hands. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

“I thought he hated you.”

“I thought he hated me. We… figured it out. Mostly.”

“If his underwear is in our living room, I’d say that’s a more-than-mostly. Unless it was a hate-fuck,” Tommy added, musing aloud. “Those are good too. Emma told me you were back to the fake-couple bullshit, but I thought she was messing with me.”

“It’s not bullshit… exactly.”

Tommy groaned and sat back, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. He flicked his fingers at Billy, catching him on the shoulder. “This is going to be one of those things that gets our names in the tabloids and Gramps making Emma shout at us again, isn’t it?”

Billy weighed his options, then picked his head up to look at Tommy apologetically. “It… yeah. It might.”

Then to his surprise, Tommy smirked instead of slapping the back of Billy’s head as payback. “Excellent. Life was getting dull. So are you or aren’t you fucking Altman?”

“Yes,” Billy replied, his shoulders relaxing down from around his ears. “And no. That is – Emma and David Alleyne think we’re fake-dating like they wanted. And the gossip rags will get pictures of the pap-walks and all that crap. But we’re actually together. I just… I need something that’s mine,” he sighed out. If anyone in the world would understand it would be Tommy, who was fighting for his own small part of the world as well. “Something that they can’t have a piece of. And if the faux-mance shit gets Emma and Grand-dad off my back—”

Tommy grimaced. “I get it. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re an idiot.”

“I know,” Billy sighed glumly. “And it’s all going to end in disaster. But I can’t do it, Tommy. I can’t let them have this piece of me too. Teddy’s all I’ve got that’s only mine.”

“Ohh, it’s back to ‘Teddy’ now is it?” Tommy hooted. “You’ve really got it bad for Hot Jeans Guy. Now who could have seen _that_ disaster coming?”

“Oh my God,” Billy said, rolling over. He shoved his face under the pillow on the end of the couch and held it over his head. “Just go away.”

“Not a chance. Now go back in time about three weeks and tell me what the hell is going on. I can’t be your backup on this shit unless I know the details.”

Billy re-emerged, his face still hot. “I’m not telling you _all_ the details,” was all he said at first, and got the burst of satisfaction when Tommy pulled a disgusted face and backed away. “But if you want to know about the clothes-on parts, Globes nomination night is where things got more complicated.”

It felt good to talk about it, even if Tommy was less sympathetic than Billy would have ideally liked. But somewhere behind the teasing and the name-calling, the mockery of Billy’s life choices and the time he’d wasted trying to leave messages for Teddy that somehow never got through-

Somewhere in there, Tommy was listening, and he was there, and he understood.

“So you’re going to help me keep this on the down-low, right?”

Tommy sighed and flung his head backward to stare at the ceiling. “You’ve had dumber ideas, but not many. But it will also make Emma, Queen of Narnia, turn purple when she eventually finds out, which makes it completely worth it. I’m in.”

“You’re a mensch,” Billy said sarcastically. “I appreciate the brotherly love here.”

“I am _full_ of brotherly love, dilolo,” Tommy corrected him. “Also, good advice. And let’s start with ‘you guys need burner phones,’ and go from there.”

* * *

Going home for Christmas was a head-clearer move for Teddy in more ways than one. Unlike L.A., where he was starting to be recognized and David was working on getting him even _less_ able to go out in public, in New York, no-one cared. Teddy could have plastered his posters all over a billboard and mounted it on top of his mom’s house and the guy at the corner hot dog stand would still call him an asshole for taking too long with his change.

The first day home had been chaos, unpacking and updating his mom on everything that he hadn’t been ready to talk about on the phone, getting his hair ruffled in exasperation over hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, just like he was still a kid.

He’d tried to edit the story down to the basics—some things a guy’s mom just never needed to hear—but it was too hard. She just had to _look_ at him with her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on the beat-up IKEA kitchen table, and he found himself spilling his guts.

Moms were, apparently, brutally efficient at that sort of thing. And she asked the kind of questions, her eyes kind, that he’d been avoiding thinking about since the first day David had come to him with this ridiculous idea.

Which was how he’d ended up here, sitting on a bench in arrivals at JFK airport, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, twenty minutes before Billy’s flight was even supposed to land.

_What do_ you _want out of any of this?_

The million-dollar question.

There was the obvious. Sex with Billy was mind-blowing. Hanging out with Billy, making him laugh, bonding with this amazing man over stupid movies and stupider jokes, even better.  

The perks that came with going out with him were nice, of course. Restaurants he’d never be able to afford on his own, VIP sections at the clubs they went to, parties in penthouses furnished in Late American Expensive. Teddy was under no illusions that his current string of successes would have happened if he wasn’t on the arm of Gay Hollywood’s current it-boy.

That had been the point, after all.

How much of Teddy’s infatuation was because ‘Will Lehnsherr’ had been his teenage crush, and how much because of the person Billy Maximoff actually was?

Seeing Billy out of his element, bringing him on to Teddy’s old home turf—this would be the chance he needed to find out.

He’d spent the past couple of months following David and Billy’s lead. Where to go, what to do, what to wear, even, who to be seen by—Billy had even been the one to make the hotel happen the night of the party. And so far, Teddy had been accommodating until he’d reached his absolute limit, and he’d let others take the reins. He’d enjoyed a lot of it.  

But whatever happened next, some of it was going to be on Teddy’s terms.  

Teddy stood when the flood of new arrivals started coming toward him, and he hung back against the wall to wait. There weren’t any photographers, no rumble through the crowd that suggested anyone had seen anything out of the ordinary, so it took a few minutes for him to spot Billy moving quietly through the hall.

Billy strode along, his hat pulled down and sunglasses firmly in place and a bag looped over his shoulder like he was just some regular person. He was pulling attention as he got closer, a couple of guys at one of the restaurants following him with their eyes. It was his ass in his snug jeans they were watching, though, not with any kind of recognition, and Teddy ignored their stares. He ignored them and their envy even harder when Billy came straight over to him, not even hesitating before wrapping his arms around Teddy.

“Hey,” Teddy said softly, only a little unsure. It had been a few days; was this the right time, here in the airport in the middle of holiday travel crowds? _For fuck's sake._  He'd sworn to himself he wasn't going to do that anymore. No more uncertainty, no more second-guessing.

_What do_ I _want?_

He slid one hand into Billy’s hair, down below the edge of his hat, and tipped his face up. _This._

“Hey," Billy said, and he rose up on his toes to meet Teddy halfway. Teddy’s nose bumped into Billy’s glasses and he pushed them up and away with his thumb before trying again.

Billy’s lips were sweet, mint and faintly sugar-sticky, tasting of candy cane and promises.

Some old lady hissed at them, and someone else wolf-whistled, but otherwise there was no commotion, no camera flashes going off. Nothing but Billy’s mouth under his and Billy’s hand pressed against his chest, the heat spreading down through Teddy’s body from those two perfect points of contact.  

The sigh that pulled from Billy’s lips when they stepped apart was more thrilling than anything else. It was harder than it should have been to switch his brain back to mundane stuff, like did he have bags, or would he mind taking a yellow cab instead of a fancy limo, and what was Teddy thinking, asking a _movie star_ to come and crash at his mom’s little apartment upstairs from a Brooklyn bodega?

Some guy wearing a spider man costume and a pair of scuba goggles bolted past them, two rotund security guards in hot pursuit. Teddy grabbed Billy and pulled him aside, and Billy snickered, all tension gone. “Man,” he sighed with a happiness Teddy hadn’t anticipated. “I’ve missed New York.”

It was easier after that.

“L.A. is just as weird, you know,” Teddy pointed out, grabbing Billy’s bag before Billy could object, and slinging it over his own shoulder. “Full of manorexic aliens and botox addicts.”

“L.A. is weird,” Billy conceded, “but it’s on an entirely different sort of level. Have you ever been to Portland? Now there’s a place with a zipcode firmly in the Twilight Zone.”

“Speaking of the Twilight Zone,” Teddy dodged a girl in a wheelchair zipping along at about a thousand miles an hour, “how did you end up getting away? Did you actually tell Emma you were coming up to visit me?” No-one was paying attention to them here; it was probably safer to have the conversation now than later in a cab where the driver could hear everything.

Billy grimaced. “Not… exactly.”

“Billy…”

“She’d have had the paparazzi staking us out the moment I landed.”

That didn’t sound quite like the smooth, carefully plotting Emma Frost that Teddy was coming to know, but he bit his tongue. For now.

“Anyway, Tommy’s helping.”

“He knows?”

“He found your underwear behind the couch and badgered me until I fessed up.” Billy had the good grace to look sheepish at breaking his own rules first, at least. “But he and Kate took off for a thing in Vegas, and he agreed to cover for me. As far as anyone else is concerned, both Lehnsherr twins are partying it up in Sin City this week.”

Teddy groaned. “This is going to end up backfiring. You know that, right?”

“Nah. We got this.” They inched forward in the line at the taxi stand, and Billy fished in the pocket of his bag. “And I brought this for you.”

He handed Teddy a cell phone. Why? “Is this a way of saying you’re going to be my sugar daddy?” Teddy snorted. “Because an old Nokia’s not a great start.”

“Like my- _affection_ for you,” Billy said, stumbling slightly as if he’d been going to say something else, “the Nokia is undying. Anyway, I have one too, programmed both our numbers in and everything. Burner phones!” he added, as though that explained everything.

The girl in front of them in line coughed on her drink, but didn’t turn around.

“Are we planning a bank heist?” Teddy turned the phone on and tapped through the menus that popped up. The only number in there was one he didn’t recognize, with the name ‘Fred’ entered beside it. “Let me guess. I’m listed in yours as ‘Barney’?”

“Huh? Oops, hang on. Wrong one.” Billy dug in his bag again and brought out an almost-identical phone, swapping it out for the one in Teddy’s hand. Now the entry read ‘Shaggy’.

“Ruh-ro,” Teddy added, just because. “So why am I ‘Fred’?”

“Tall, blond, handsome, and I’d really like to see you in those tight pants.” Billy grinned, and now the girl in front of them in the lineup was definitely laugh-snorting-choking on her drink and refusing to turn around to look at either of them. Thank God for New Yorkers.

Teddy tapped at the phone for a moment and renamed Billy _Dorkface_ in his contact list, just to see the eyeroll he’d get in return.  “Are we worried about Emma breaking into your phone, or are you turning into a method actor?”

The faintly somber look on Billy’s face looked mingled with guilt for a moment. “Not just Emma,” he admitted, “but don’t get mad. I’m pretty sure David did something to your phone. Or someone did. That is, I called you, before- when we weren’t talking. And then when you didn’t return my calls, I just assumed you were mad at me.”

“We’ve been through all this before,” Teddy objected. “We don’t need to rehash it.”

“Yeah, we do. Because I got my phone statement last week, after you left? And those calls you said you never got. They were on there, to the right number. I checked twice. So I tried calling you yesterday, but this time it rang four times before dumping me to your voicemail. Not once, like before.”

_Holy shit._

But then they were at the head of the line and the stout woman in the bright orange vest was waving them on to a cab, and Billy stopped talking.

Teddy fished out his own phone, his real phone, the moment they were settled in the car. Nothing in messages, Billy’s call from yesterday and Teddy returning it marked in his call log, and nothing else interesting from before that…

But there, far further down on the menu than he ever usually scrolled, a folder labeled ‘blocked messages,’ and a number 3 in bold.

“You gonna tell me where you’re going?” the cab driver hollered at them, and Teddy jumped. He gave his address on autopilot, swiping through his phone settings until he found it.

David; it had to have been David. No-one else knew his passwords, no-one else would have had any kind of reason to try and stop Billy from getting in touch.

“I’m going to kill him,” Teddy announced out loud, his voice tight.

“Leave me out of this, man,” the cabby replied. “I don’t hear nuthin.’” Billy snorted.

“Leave it,” Billy urged, grabbing his hand. “We’ll use the other phones for ourselves now, and no-one can stop us. Even if he decides to mess with it again, or it was an accident at the phone company, whatever—we’ll still have an open line of communication.”

It went against everything Teddy wanted to do- _call David, call him out, ask him what the hell he thought he was doing-_

Except Teddy could guess. He had been a mess, after that night, and David … David’s job was to keep Teddy marketable. To clean up his messes.

“Fine,” he sighed, shoving his old phone into his back pocket and his new one… where? Jacket pocket would have to do for now. “How was Christmas?” he changed the subject back to something more benign.

Billy grimaced and stretched, popping his shoulders and knuckles one after another. “The usual sort of hell. Mom’s place is fine, but Christmas eve is always a Thing. Both Tommy and I sitting around the world’s least comfortable living room with Mom and Uncle Pete, Grand-dad sitting in his ‘throne’ and staring us down over port and cheese so old that the pharaohs probably turned it down the first time.” He made a disgusted sort of noise. “Grand-dad’s got this gimlet eye, and when he turns it on you, you can feel your spine shrivel up into your brain.”

“Spine, or balls?” Teddy teased.

Billy leered. “Come check and tell me.”

“Not in my cab, assholes!”

“Sorry.”

The drive wasn’t terrible once they bounced off the freeway, but Billy paused with his hand on the door handle before they got out of the car. He stared up at the building, the old brick stained from decades of pollution and weather, the couple of trees waving gently in the winter wind.

“You okay?” Teddy asked softly, his hand resting lightly on Billy’s back.

Billy turned his head just enough, his bangs flopping down over his cheek and hiding his lowered gaze. “Your mom- she’ll be okay?” And there was too much loaded into that one question for Teddy to answer in any real way, not with the cabbie grumbling behind them and tucking away his fee.

“She’ll love you,” Teddy replied instead. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

* * *

To say Billy was unprepared for the visit would be an understatement. As much as he traveled for work, it was all regimented, regulated, scheduled and timed down to the millisecond. He checked into high-end hotels where they already had been sent lists of his room service favorites, got picked up in the mornings by drivers pre-ordered to get him where he was supposed to be, and his entire time was spent trying _not_ to be himself.

This trip, from meeting Teddy alone at the airport to finding himself in a taxi cab smelling faintly of cigarettes and socks, was a far cry from the usual.

Billy stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the brown-brick building in front of him, the double glass doors leading in to the small linoleum-floored lobby, and clutched his bag strap tighter.

The last time the Maximoffs had lived in New York Billy had been nine years old, barely pre-pubescent, and in no way aware of or remotely prepared for the way his world had been about to change. Even then they’d called an east side brownstone home, paid for with Grand-dad’s money. Teddy's world was something entirely, utterly new. 

Teddy hadn’t paused, pushing open the wide glass lobby doors and heading inside. Billy moved to catch up, ducking in just as the door swung closed behind him. Rows of mailboxes lined one wall, a buzzer and call number board on the opposite side, but Teddy just made his way right to the second set of doors, his key in his hand. The faint smell of floor cleaner mingled with the edge of fresh paint in the air.

Right. He was just here for a couple of days of vacation, a regular guy, hanging out with another regular guy. He could relax, he could do this.

Teddy’s ass looked really, really good in those worn-out jeans.

Probably not the best thing to be concentrating on when he was about ten seconds away from meeting the guy’s _mother_.

Had he ever met a boyfriend’s parents? Jimmy didn’t count; they’d known each other practically since grade school. Brandon Sharpe’s mother didn’t count either—Billy and Brandon had never dated, even though she’d been salivating at the bit to get them hooked up, at least in the press.

“Billy?”

While he’d been panicking, Teddy had been unlocking the door. _Shit._

Billy braced himself and settled into his acting-skin, the one that let the real Billy sit in a huddled little ball deep inside while well-trained-Will took over the dealing-with-people side of things. He nodded, set his shoulders, put on his confident face, and followed Teddy inside.

Cheerful – that was the first impression that struck him. The apartment was small, maybe the size of the downstairs half of the twins’ condo, but the happy lemon-yellow walls in the tidy front hall gave the place a cheerful, cozy sort of feel. Photographs lined the wall in front of him, pictures of Teddy and a pretty blonde woman interspersed with close-up images of wildlife and flower petals, drops of dew captured on the iridescent wing of a dragonfly. There wasn’t anywhere obvious to put his shoes, so he nudged them into the corner beside the toll-painted deacon’s bench and set his bag down beside them.

“Mom?” Teddy called out into the space, and the faint clinking of dishes and running water stopped. “Come on,” he urged Billy, and led him inside.

“In here!” The blonde woman from the photos in the hallway peeked her head out of the door that had to be the kitchen, off the robins-egg-blue living room. Whatever Billy might have been picturing, whether it was a golden version of his own elegant, soft-spoken mother, or Brandon’s crazy-eyed Hollywood Mom, this tiny, pretty woman in jeans and a t-shirt had not been it. She was drying her hands off with a dishtowel and slung it over her shoulder, then crossed the room to meet them halfway. “So this is Billy,” she opened with a smile that glowed like Teddy’s. “How was your flight?”

She fit the house, bright and bubbly and somehow impossible to imagine in shadow.

“It was fine, thank you,” Billy replied on autopilot, still trying to get his bearings. The apartment was small but well-maintained; that much he could tell after a second. A small Christmas tree stood by the window, covered in bright ornaments and blinking lights, the cream-coloured living room set pushed aside to make room. “And thank you for letting me stay – I know it was all very last minute.” He glanced at Teddy quickly, only long enough to notice that Teddy was making a funny frowning face at him. “The offer’s still there – I can stay in a hotel if I’ll be an imposition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Teddy’s mom (Mrs. Altman? He should have asked before what he was supposed to call her) laughed kindly. “Teddy invited you, you’ll stay here. Besides, there isn’t anywhere reasonable close by, and it doesn’t make any sense to put you on the train for an hour when you’ve only just arrived.”

“Thank you very much. I’ll do my best not to get underfoot,” he promised, and Teddy looked even more constipated. _What the hell?_ Billy mouthed at him the moment his mom looked away, and got an incredulous look back in response.

“I’m counting on you two being underfoot,” Mrs. Altman replied instead, and handed Teddy the dishtowel. “When else do I get two live-in housekeepers for a couple of days?” her eyes twinkled with amusement, and it only took Billy a second to catch on that she was teasing them. “I’m planning to put my feet up and enjoy myself.”

“Speaking of which,” Teddy cleared his throat meaningfully, “I’ll give Billy the five-second tour.”

“Let the poor boy sit down, Teddy; show him your room and let him get settled in.” And she vanished back into the kitchen.

Teddy was shaking his head as he moved through the apartment, opened a door and dumped Billy’s bag on the bed inside.

“You used red-carpet face on my mom,” he accused Billy before he’d even closed the door behind him.

“I want her to like me!” Billy replied quickly, caught red-handed. Teddy’s room was larger than he’d thought from seeing the hallway, a wide, bright room that was catching the last of the afternoon sun. His bed was older, a wooden headboard up against the wall, and other than some of his clothes flung over the back of the desk chair, the room itself felt tidy-but-empty. Not nearly Teddy-ish enough, whatever that would look like.

“I don’t want to be an imposition,” Teddy mimicked, but he was grinning as he stalked toward Billy. “You sounded like an infomercial, or an android.”

“I froze,” Billy muttered darkly, the embarrassment setting in. “She’s going to look at me and see all the gossip site crap anyway, so I need to make a better impression.”

“She has no idea who you are,” Teddy said, with a certain amount of confidence. “I told her your real name, not your stage name. It’s not like I need to brag to _her_ about who I’m dating. She still gives me shit for the time I ate a watch battery and we had to spend all of Christmas Day in the ER.”

“You ate a battery?”

“In my defense, I was five.”

“I dunno, that still seems kind of old to be doing things like that.”

“Are you calling me a slow learner?”

They were nose to nose then, and Billy rose up on his toes to kiss Teddy on the end of his. The crawling anxiety curled in on itself and faded as he teased Teddy, dug out a small space where he could ground himself in the familiar and not-at-all nerve-wracking. “If the label fits,” he offered, before Teddy cheated and found the spot where he was ticklish.

Billy had folded over trying to protect his stomach and Teddy was wrapped over him fighting to get at the spots under his arms, both of them breathless with laughter, when the door opened. Teddy’s mother stood there, her arms folded.

“So he does know how to smile after all,” she commented, and whatever tension had been in the air before – real or product of Billy’s fevered imagination—melted away into nothing. “Pizza’s here, boys. Come and eat.”

“Pizza?” Billy asked, finally managing to escape Teddy’s octopus-hold and tug his shirt back down. His face was hot, probably as red as Teddy’s was, from the closeness as well as laughing too hard.

“Mom ordered dinner,” Teddy shrugged. “I assume you’re okay with pizza. The place down the street is amazing, but they won’t ship pies to L.A.”

“You tried that?” Billy asked, grinning.

“No, but I did ask once, before I moved, just out of curiosity.”

“I could hear Giovanni laughing from outside,” Mrs. Altman added with a grin.

Teddy sighed. “No respect, in my own neighbourhood.”

“You’ll have to wait until those movies of yours get on screen first, love,” Mrs. Altman said, and reached up to ruffle Teddy’s hair with real and easy affection.

Once they were seated —on cushions, on the floor, around a low coffee table that looked like it had started its life in a sushi restaurant—Mrs. Altman smiled at Billy. “So tell me about what you’re working on right now, Billy, unless you’re not allowed? I didn’t get to see _Vere Street_ — historicals aren’t generally my taste and of course it was out of the theatres by the time Teddy mentioned you. But I understand you’re doing something modern next.”

Billy stopped, a bite of pizza in his mouth, cheese stretching long between it and the slice in his hands. “Erm.”

She raised a perfect eyebrow and glanced back and forth between them. “Another historical?” she guessed instead.

“No, that is,” Billy swallowed, the lump of pizza going down the wrong way in his haste. He coughed and choked until Teddy bashed him on the back with a few good, solid thumps, and he was able to breathe again. “I’ve got a spy thing next. Modern-day, not cold war. I thought you said you didn’t give her my stage name?” he asked Teddy, shooting him a look of dismay.

Teddy shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t! Mom—?”

“Please,” Mrs. Altman snorted, completely composed. “Of course I know who you are. I may not be an obsessive follower of pop culture like some people-” Teddy sighed, “but Teddy had posters of you all over his wall from when your show was on the air. I could hardly miss it.”

It was Teddy’s turn to go bright red, coke from his glass sending him into a coughing fit. “Mom, no!”

“He had posters of me?” Billy asked, a slow grin spreading across his face. _An ally!_

“Oh, dozens,” Mrs. Altman nodded serenely. “And some of you with your brother, but mostly you. You were a nice looking kid,” she added, “but I’m going to embarrass Teddy even further right now and say that you’ve grown up into a very handsome young man.”

“ _Mom, no!"_

“But Teddy said he wasn’t out to you in high school.”

“Oh, he wasn’t. And there was a sad, lonely cheerleader poster that was supposed to throw me off the scent, I think. But once your face was everywhere I assumed he’d tell me when he was ready.”

Teddy groaned and sank his face into his hands. “Unbelievable.”

“More pizza?” Mrs. Altman asked, and Billy could all but see the glowing halo of total innocence over her head, mixed with the smug smile of ‘I got one back at my kid.’ That look, he knew.  

“Please,” Billy replied, grinning back.

“This was a mistake.”

“Could even become a train wreck,” Mrs. Altman replied cheerfully.

“Could be worse,” Billy added, and he patted Teddy’s thigh soothingly. “I could have brought you to meet my grandfather.”

“Thanks. I feel so much better.” 

* * *

Billy was going to be sharing Teddy’s room while he was there. Teddy’s mom hadn’t asked, she’d just assumed, and Teddy hadn’t really felt like arguing the point. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to put him, except the couch in the living room.

You didn’t put a multi-million-dollar-earning superstar on the couch, no matter how comfortable it was.

As much as Teddy’s mom hadn’t thought to mention it to him, Teddy hadn’t thought to mention the arrangement to Billy until after dinner. His bedroom still looked pretty much the same as it had when he’d moved west; same queen sized bed with the white headboard, same old wooden desk that he’d done his homework on in high school.

Billy flopped down on the bed and bounced on it once, experimentally, before pushing himself up on his elbows and looking around again.

How many hours had Teddy spent in this room, reading audition scripts and dissecting plays for his theatre classes, staring up at pictures of that exact face?

Was it incredibly weird that he was now _dating_ the object of his more fevered teenage fantasies?

“I think this dresser is still empty,” he offered, needing to say something to get his mind off the realization that Will Lehnsherr was lying on his bed. “If you want to put your stuff in there.”

_If today-me could go back in time and tell this to teenage-me…_

_I’d have laughed myself sick._

“You took down your posters,” Billy lamented, laughter in his voice. “That is, assuming your mom wasn’t just messing with me. Did you?”

Teddy took the path of most resistance, setting Billy’s bag down on the dresser and turning to face him. “Did I mess with you?” He asked, rather than face the inevitable question. “Inevitably.”

“No, dummy.” Billy pushed himself up on to his knees and knee-walked across the bed until he was close enough to reach out and touch. He sat back on his heels, knees pressing into the covers a few inches apart and his dark hair flopping down over his forehead. A hot rush burned through Teddy at the sight of Billy’s grin, his casual slouch, the way if the door was closed Teddy would have room and privacy to push Billy back on the bed, step between his legs, right then and there- “Did you really have posters of me?”

Billy was laughing at him but there was some hint of uncertainty behind it, something real and a little bit wistful.

So Teddy answered honestly, leaning back against the dresser and folding his arms as he confessed. “Maybe a couple,” he admitted grudgingly. “In my defense, I was in junior high and my taste in guys was _terrible._ ”

Billy clutched his heart, but the way he was biting his lip to stop himself from laughing wasn’t helping Teddy’s heart rate at all. “I’m offended,” Billy pretended to pout, then arched an eyebrow. “How about in your locker at school?”

“No!” Yeah, like _that_ would have happened.

“Did you kiss them goodnight?” Billy edged closer, his dark eyes sparkling.

“Billy,” Teddy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.

“Oh, wait, I know—you scribbled your name and mine in hearts on your school notebooks.” Teddy growled at him. Billy rose up on his knees so that his nose was about level with Teddy’s chest, and tipped his head up, his lower lip soft and bitable.

“I have it now,” Billy gloated, and that was… less attractive. Billy lowered his voice so that Teddy had to lean in a little more to really hear him. “You wrote self-insert fanfiction where you and I hooked up. What was your handle? Did it have the word ‘twink’ in it anywhere?”

Ok, enough. Mother in the apartment or not, Teddy stepped in and poked Billy in the shoulders, sending him backwards onto the bed. Billy landed on his elbows, laughing, and bounced a couple of times on the soft mattress, the challenge never leaving his eyes. Teddy dropped down onto the edge of the bed, knees pressing down into the bedclothes, and he pinned Billy down, hands encircling Billy’s wrists on either side of his lithe hips. “You know, I think I had the right idea,” he said, once he had the situation sort of under control- and Billy half underneath him. “You were much more appealing as a fantasy.”

A faintly wounded look flashed in Billy’s eyes for a fraction of a second, but then it was gone. “Oh?”

Teddy grinned. “You didn’t talk nearly as much.”

Billy laughed, a warm, crystal-clear and honest sound that eased the strain Teddy had been holding in his shoulders. Billy's guard had gone up the moment they'd walked through the apartment door that afternoon, the same shell that had kept Teddy firmly on the outside during their first few dates and the disaster that had followed. And while Billy had been laughing with Teddy's mother over dinner, this was different - a quick glimpse behind the mask that he'd slammed down. _There you are. Come out of hiding. It's safe here._

“A palpable hit. Teddy…” Billy freed his hands and propped himself up on his elbows. Teddy held still on his hands and knees above him, Billy leaning up so close that Teddy could feel the heat of his body, the faint brush of his knees against Teddy’s inner thighs, his mouth bare inches away.

The sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen was both a goad and a warning; she wouldn’t catch them.

Billy’s eyes fluttered half-closed, his dark lashes obscenely long. His lips parted, breathy and glistening damp, the tip of his tongue flickered out to touch his bottom lip. Teddy could barely hold back, the pulse in his ears so strong, the aching need building so quickly inside that his head spun.

“Teddy,” Billy murmured again, liquid silk in his voice. His eyes opened and his lip twitched up. In that same satin-sex voice, he asked, “did you jerk off thinking about me?”

“ARGH.” Teddy rolled off him and let himself collapse back onto the bed, the moment gone. He hid his flushed-hot face in his hands, not able to meet Billy’s eyes.

_Are you kidding? Of course I did, and none of a thousand sticky teenage daydreams could ever have prepared me for the complicated, infuriating, addictive reality of you._

But what he actually said came out more like “I hate you, and have to die now.”

The bed moved, had to be Billy sitting up. “Oh my God, you did!” Billy yelped, and Teddy had a moment of desperately wishing he could sink through the bed and down through the floor beneath. “You totally did!” Billy’s voice went breathy, somehow awe-filled, and when Teddy cracked an eye open and peeked through his fingers, Billy was staring at him with unabashed wonder. “The hottest man on the planet used my old promo photos as spank bank material. My life is complete.”

“Gloating is incredibly unattractive, I’ll have you know.”

“The rest of me makes up for it,” Billy leaned in to take Teddy’s face in his hands. The kiss – closed-mouth, almost chaste but for the depth of his tenderness – that he pressed to Teddy’s lips made up for a lot.

The sound of his mother coughing in the doorway cut in before the kiss could turn into something more, and they jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Maybe it was being in his old room that put that extra gloss of panic on the moment, but Teddy felt his ears burn hot. Mom stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms folded and her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Close the door?” She asked pointedly, once Billy had landed again about a foot away. “There are some things a mother never needs to see.” But she was smiling, the corners of her lips twitching with controlled amusement.

“Sorry,” Teddy muttered, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“I’m going out,” she said. “I got a call from a client for a last-minute showing. Since Billy just came in, I figured you wouldn’t mind some time to settle in without me rattling around and getting in your way. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Teddy replied, purely out of habit. Winter was the slow season—no-one wanted to move house in a snowstorm. The weeks she had serious contenders in the winter had always been good news when he was a kid, and even now that things were better—now that he could afford to start paying her back for everything she’d sacrificed for him— it still mattered. Because it mattered to her.

“Thanks, kiddo.” She tossed off a half-assed salute and headed back down the hall.

He heard the coat closet open and close, and then the apartment door. The key turning in the lock meant they were really, truly alone again, for the first time in days.

He looked at Billy. Billy looked back at him, and then he raised an eyebrow. Billy might not be eager to talk, but there was always this. 

Their clothes hit the floor in record time. Taking Billy in his childhood bedroom was just as gloriously filthy as Teddy's imagination had promised; pushing deep into his body, Billy’s ankles over Teddy’s shoulders, Billy’s cock in his hand and his lips red from kissing and biting.

As hot as it was, as all-consuming the rush of his orgasm, the best part of it all was lying spent and exhausted, condom in the trash can and his blood slowly cooling along with the sweat drying on his face, waiting for Billy to come back from the bathroom.

Billy returned and sprawled beside him, loose-limbed and sated, his eyelids heavy and his cock still thick where it rested against his thigh. Damp tendrils of black hair clung to his forehead, the flush that had colored him all the way down to his nipples slowly, gently, beginning to recede.

Teddy traced his fingertips over the contours of Billy’s hip, the crease above his hipbone, dipped gently into the hollow of his navel and out again. His own heart thundered in time with Billy’s, the drowsy fog curling around his brain a beautiful place to nestle and forget.

No expectations, no teasing or thinking, just the two of them, naked and vulnerable. He pressed a kiss to Billy’s shoulder, and watched the lazy smile spread dreamily across Billy’s face.

Teddy might be the one who made a living out of modeling, but Billy was the beautiful one. Classically perfect, his body toned and tight, he was a lean figure who should have been carved from marble, preserved for all time.

On the more prosaic side, though, there was something he needed to ask, a question that was almost but not quite enough to get his point across. Teddy laid delicate, feather-light kisses—brushes of his lips, really—up Billy’s shoulder and his throat, rubbing his lips gently against the prickle of dark stubble growing in along Billy’s jawline. Maybe it was being in his old bedroom, or maybe it was the remembered echo of his mother's questions about future plans, or his earlier frustration at being closed out of Billy's emotional world, but the urge to push him into opening up niggled at the back of Teddy's throat. But there was no way to ask 'what's going to happen after May,' right now, or plead for the kind of reassurance that would only mean something if it came spontaneously. 

_If I asked you to make that public declaration now, would you? Or is there some other doubt in your mind?_

“I didn’t ask before you came up, but I should have. Are you okay with sharing the room? Because I can take the couch if you’d rather have the bed to yourself.” It wasn't what he meant, but it was what he had. 

Billy made a soft noise that sounded like a question, and he rolled over onto his side to face Teddy directly. “Of course I’m fine with it,” he said, and it was too easy an answer, too quick. “We’ve slept together before.”

“Not like this, not really,” Teddy answered. Because it was different, somehow; an intimate Rubicon still to be crossed. “We’ve passed out together, and fallen asleep in the same place after hooking up.” The soft sound of confusion from Billy didn’t do much to calm Teddy’s nerves. “Being here, together like this-it's different,” he said softly, trying to explain. “Don’t you think?”

The look of hesitation on Billy’s face suggested ‘no, not so much’. 

“Never mind,” Teddy said quickly, and rolled out of bed. He padded to the bathroom off the hall and ran the water as he washed up, so that it would drown out any noise coming from the bedroom.

_Stupid._

Why had he pushed? It would have been a whole lot smarter to just relax, take things as they came, enjoy what they had, as it happened, and not-

And not ask for more. You’d think he’d have figured that one out by now.

The door opened as Teddy was drying his face, the knock so hesitant and light that he’d missed it. He yelped and dropped the towel to cover himself, in case it was his mother- but Billy stood there, half-dressed and rumpled, his brow furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in that deep-in-thought pout that seemed to be second nature.

“Hey,” he said, and Teddy relaxed, at least a bit.

“Hey.”

“I, uh,” Billy paused, frowned, then pushed in to the small bathroom and set his hands low on Teddy’s bare hips. “I’m terrible at this part,” he confessed, and the knot of tension that sat thick inside Teddy’s chest started to melt away. “Tell me I didn’t just mess something up.”

How could he stay mad at that face? Teddy let the tangled ball of emotion go, and relaxed into Billy’s touch. His hands were warm and solid on Teddy’s hips, a point of connection skin to skin. “We’re good,” he promised, and got to watch Billy as he relaxed and the sunshine came out in his eyes again. “I’m getting sentimental at you, that’s all. I'll blame the season.”

“Sentimental is good, I like the sound of that.” Billy lifted on his toes, just enough to bring them eye to eye, and he brushed a gentle, enquiring kiss against Teddy’s lips. “I’d say come to bed and I’ll prove I can handle this whole ‘emotional honesty’ thing, but I’m still on L.A. time. My jet lag thinks it’s mid-afternoon.”

“Fair,” Teddy conceded. “I’ve had a few days to adjust. Tell you what,” he grinned, “mom’s got Netflix. I’ll bet you anything I can find reruns of this old show I used to watch.”

“No,” Billy said instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Aww, come on,” Teddy teased, snapping the towel at him and chasing him a few steps out of the bathroom, everything else forgotten. “I bet you’d like it. It’s all about these twins, see, and they live on a sailboat at the marina…”

“You are such a jerk,” Billy informed him, high-tailing it into the bedroom and grabbing a pillow to use as a shield. “A massive jerk, the jerkiest of any jerk who ever… uh.”

“Jerked?” Teddy supplied helpfully, and Billy snickered like the twelve year old he apparently was.

“That.” Billy laughed, then cocked his head sideways like a curious chocolate lab. “And now I’m visualizing,” he said, his voice throaty.

Teddy snorted, but smacked Billy's butt lightly as he stood up again. “Shower’s yours,” he offered magnanimously. “I’ll see what we’ve got in terms of drinks and stuff. Even if you’re not feeling sitcoms right now-" Billy cringed and Teddy laughed, “I’m sure there’s something un-terrible we can put on to pass the time until you start to feel tired.”

And the rest of it would simply have to wait. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When old mistakes bite you on the ass. Or, 'we knew this was too good to last.' Also, the Fanforum ladies have a Moment.

Un-terrible wasn’t easy, especially when Billy kept vetoing things, but they compromised on something where neither of them had worked with anyone on the cast or crew, and Billy couldn’t keep interrupting with random backstage gossip or trainwreck stories about the showrunners.

“It’s hard to suspend disbelief when you know the leads have hated each other since prep school,” Billy explained loftily, only relenting when Teddy started blowing raspberries into his neck at every one of his comments. “It’s true.”

Now, though, settled down on the couch (the new one, the one he’d bought for his mother with his paycheck from the first Calvin shoot, to replace the one with the broken spring that was practically older than _he_ was-) with a blanket tossed over his feet and Billy curled up beneath his arm, Teddy was finally relaxed.

Mostly. Something still sat discontent at the back of his brain, built from bits and pieces of conversations from the past couple of months, looks and gestures and Billy’s tense, squared shoulders. An aura of faint unhappiness or dissatisfaction seemed to cling to him like a shroud once you could see past the surface charm.

Teddy ran his fingers through Billy’s hair, and Billy leaned in to the caress. There was something so intimate, so easy about the motion that it felt weird for it to be so natural. “You’re always on your guard, aren’t you?”

Billy shrugged, the gesture more felt than seen. He shifted so he was lying mostly on Teddy’s side, the two of them sprawling lengthwise on the long couch. “I have to be.” He paused before continuing, ruminating over something. “As far back as I remember, everyone’s been after a piece of us. Every time Grand-dad made the news for something there’d be a photographer outside, or reporters calling the house for sound-bites. Tommy and I got media training right alongside the alphabet. Keep everything inside, don’t let them find a weak spot.” His cadence changed with that last line, like he was imitating something someone else had said.

“That’s an awful way to grow up,” Teddy couldn’t help the judgment, even though it could just as easily make Billy shut down again. _Don’t stop talking, please._ “When did you get to be kids? Or make mistakes?”

“We didn’t, not really.” The words hung there between them, Billy’s lips warm against Teddy’s throat. “The whole thing was inevitable given who my grandfather is. Even if Tommy and I were terrible actors, he was going to find some way to use us. Mom’s different—she always said we didn’t have to—but she’s still his daughter. We all end up falling in line.”

“He’s your _grandfather_ ,” Teddy objected, even though realistically that didn’t matter. “He must love you.”

Billy made a soft noise of disagreement. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

A little while later, with Billy’s hand flat and warm against Teddy’s stomach, and Teddy tracing lazy circles along Billy’s shoulder and spine, he spoke again. “I’ll have your back,” Teddy promised quietly, pushing as much stability and reassurance as he could into the words, into the press of his hand. “As long as you’ve got mine. It sounds weird, I know, considering this all started because I needed _your_ help.”

“I needed yours more. You’d do fine no matter what.” Billy leaned into Teddy’s other hand, tucking his cheek against Teddy’s fingers.

“You’ve never even seen me act,” Teddy felt compelled to point out.

Billy shrugged again. “We’ve run lines; I can tell. You’ve got serious talent.”

The way Teddy’s heart expanded in his chest and the warm glow that filled him were both probably a little out of proportion to the level of the compliment. “You know that doesn’t matter so much. Talent’s only a small part of the package.”

“Good thing you’re ridiculously gorgeous then, isn’t it?”

Teddy snorted. Billy poked him in the side as a car flipped and exploded on screen, and they settled back into a companionable silence once more.

One episode merged into the next and Teddy was starting to drift, but Billy’s eyes were still wide and open.

“Your mom’s been gone a while,” Billy said quietly.

“She probably stopped for groceries or something, or met a friend for coffee, to give us some time,” Teddy suggested, not really thinking about it. “She’ll be back eventually.”

“You guys seem really close,” Billy’s tone was wistful.

“It’s been just the two of us for so long… I guess you bond differently.”

“You miss her,” Billy said, not asking a question at all.

“Yeah, of course. She’s out here, I’m in L.A., we have to plan phone calls and stuff now because of the time difference.” That familiar wash of guilt curled over him, along with a faint sense that he was exposing too much of himself. But then, Billy had given him the gift of trust, something Billy had in very short supply. “She’s got friends, but I’m her only family. I’d like to bring her out to California, especially if this year works out like I hope it will. I’ll be able to get her a house, and take care of her properly. Payback for everything she’s done for me.”

Billy slipped his arm more fully around Teddy’s waist, even though his tone was light and teasing. “Mama’s boy?”

“There are worse things.”

The sound Billy made was faintly noncommittal, but then hesitantly, maybe even a bit shy, he pushed himself up and pressed delicate kisses to Teddy’s cheeks, his eyelids, his mouth. Uncertain where this tenderness was coming from, Teddy tipped his head back and accepted the benedictions, and the sweetness of Billy’s caress.

And then he said something, so quietly that Teddy almost missed it. “You’re my weak spot, and it’s scary as hell.”

The breath caught hard in Teddy’s throat and he had to swallow against both it and the rush of warmth that burst in his chest. What should he say? He had to say _something_ , now while Billy had lowered his guard, to prove that his trust wasn’t misplaced. “I’ll be your strength,” he promised just as softly, his arms close around Billy. “I’ve got you.” He couldn’t read Billy’s reaction in the half-darkness, his face illuminated partly by the flickering television screen, and partly by the glow of the Christmas lights. But Billy kissed him again, soft and sweet and slow, and he’d have to assume that he’d said the right thing. 

“I’m sorry,” Billy apologized, as he settled back down into Teddy’s arms.

“For what?”

“For going along with Emma’s plans in the beginning. I know it’s working out now, but it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair.” Billy kept eye contact, held it, though his eyes had gone darker than usual and his voice was thick with self-recrimination. “You didn’t deserve to be used like that.”

Teddy propped himself up on his elbow, Billy still draped solidly across his chest. “I made the same mistake, you know. When David suggested you, all I could think about was the chance to meet you—not about what the lying could do to either one of us.”

He reached out and brushed Billy’s bangs out of his eyes, then cupped his cheek. Billy leaned into it, pressing a kiss into Teddy’s palm. “That part’s over now, at least here. I swear it. Honesty only.”

“And that extends to getting in touch with your feelings like a regular human being?” Teddy teased gently, testing the edges of this new closeness. Billy made a face at him.

“To quote my brother, ‘feelings are for plebes.’ But I’m doing my best. For you.”

“For us,” Teddy corrected him, and pulled him in again to curl up beneath his grandmother’s ancient crocheted afghan.

They were still there by the time his mother came home, Billy curled up warm and solid along his side. She passed him a pillow, ruffled both heads of hair, blond and black, and headed off to her own room.

There, that was alright. Now she was home, Billy was here, and the world was as it should be. Teddy settled, breathed Billy in. This was contentment—the snow outside, the scent of Billy’s skin, the curl of his body, and knowing that someone was there beside him.

Not a bad way to end a year.

* * *

_We’re coming up fast on the New Year, friends, so what’s happening out there in Hollywoodland? The people who know, aren’t talking, and the people who are talking – are calling in to my show._

_We gave you the rundown on the Christmas make-ups and break-ups earlier in the program—congratulate Mariah on that rock of a ring; sources close to the singer say she needs a crane and two maids to help her take it off in the evenings._

_Moving on to the wild, wild times of the new Hollywood brat pack, we’ve got photos – ooh, would you look at that? The Lehnsherr twins are hanging out in Sin City, without an underwear model in sight._

_‘Kyra’ sent us cell phone snaps of Tom with his steady Kate Bishop whooping it up at LAVO, while reports had brother Will cleaning up at blackjack—alone— at the Hard Rock Casino. Sadly no pics, but one waitress who called in said that he was very friendly, and left her a sweet tip._

_Here’s a tip for Will, straight from Kesler’s corner — if you want the world to think you’re gay, don’t leave your pretend boyfriend at home, and don’t get caught flirting with cocktail waitresses. Cock-tail —maybe that’s where he made his mistake! I crack myself up._

_Which celebs have you run into over the holidays? Catch anyone with their pants down? Phones are open._

* * *

**Billy: How did you do that?**

**Tommy: One of Kate’s buddies from Vassar is moonlighting at the Hard Rock.**

**Tommy: Promised her a couple of introductions in return for some signal boosting.**

**Tommy: Kate says: stop texting, go party.**

**Billy: I owe you one.**

**Tommy: I’ll add it to your tab.**

* * *

__

**Fanforum public thread:**

Mandy: Did you guys hear Kesler's Corner this morning? wtf?? (I know, I know, he's gross, but he gets some scoops even before Laineygossip sometimes.)  Kate's insta has photos of Vegas up today so we know she's really there, but why would Will be doing New Year's without his boyfriend??

You don't think they really broke up, do you? I'll legit cry.

 

Cate: They've only been going out a little while; maybe they all had plans already. It's not weird to not do holidays with a new SO right away.

 

Lindassy: But that doesn't make good gossip, Cate! and then how would he get listeners and clicks? [smh] Theo's probably there and just not hanging out in the casinos. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd be a gambler, y/k?

 

Strawberry Babe: COME ON. You all know why Theo's not there!! he's a FAKE and so is their relationship. It's all made up by their managers. This is why Will's in Vegas right now:

link: https://celebrityspy.com/discussion/2179819/brandon-sharpe-backstage-for-bruno-mars-nye

His REAL boyfriend has concert passes and they're going together.

~~Will x Brandon – LehnSharpe! Their love is REAL! ~~

 

Lys: Oh my God. Go back to your own board. (That doesn't even make SENSE. Why would Will's management be covering up a real gay relationship with a fake gay relationship? At least the Larry stans have a kind of plausible argument.)

 

Strawberry Babe: Because THEN they'd have to admit that Will and Brandon started hooking up while they were underage, and parents wouldn't let their kids watch the shows anymore because it would be all 'gays are PEDOS.' Check yourself.

~~Will x Brandon – LehnSharpe! Their love is REAL! ~~

 

* * *

Any tension in the apartment had completely vanished by the time Billy struggled out from under the afghan the next morning. He’d passed out there, on top of Teddy, and now the sun was peeking through the blinds with that cool, distant winter light they never saw back home. Teddy’s mom (he wasn’t ready to call her ‘Sarah’ yet, even if she’d said so over pizza last night) was humming somewhere in the apartment, a soft cheerful sound that threaded through the noise of traffic outdoors.

Teddy muttered something and rolled over, his face burrowing into the pillow and his arm flopping loosely over the side of the couch. That seemed like as good a cue as any to make his own way to the bathroom, and stick himself under the shower. Shave? Not shave?

Not shave. If celebrity-watchers were expecting clean-cut Will Lehnsherr in Las Vegas, they wouldn’t be looking at scruffy-looking Billy bombing around NYC. Theoretically.

The hockey jersey that Teddy passed him from his own closet sealed the look; not exactly a style Billy would have chosen on his own, but then, wasn’t that the point? Teddy didn’t exactly look like himself in the trucker cap, either.

And the jersey smelled like him.

“We’re going out,” Teddy announced after Billy was dressed, and his mom gave them a cheerful wave from behind her cup of coffee. She had glasses on this morning, perched at the end of her nose while she read something on a tablet.

“Have fun storming the castle,” she replied, and Billy snorted very unbecomingly. “And remember to eat a real breakfast! Coffee and protein bars do not count.”

“I like your mom,” he announced as they headed out, and after the door had closed behind them.

Kindly, Teddy didn’t gloat. “I thought you might,” was all he said. Teddy shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as his stride moved to an easy lope. “Any idea what you want to do? Now that we’re outdoors and you’re partly unjetlagged.”

“I am in no way unjetlagged,” Billy felt compelled to point out. “My body still thinks it’s five in the morning. But if I stayed any longer this morning with my body on top of your body, your mother would have ended up spraying us with a hose.”

“Are you saying that you got up because I was too hot?” His eyes laughed at Billy from under the brim of the cap that almost but not quite disguised him.

“I’m saying that morning wood is a crisis when visiting your boyfriend’s mother.”

Teddy chuckled, and at least looked a little sheepish. “We’ll make sure we make it to the bed tonight. That door closes.”

“Deal.”

And entirely on impulse, emboldened by the casual atmosphere along Teddy’s tree-lined hipster-filled Brooklyn street, he reached out and grabbed Teddy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Teddy squeezed his hand back, and didn’t let go.

* * *

“Some things have changed,” Billy commented later that morning, after his brain had caught up with his body and their wandering—plus the train—had taken them halfway across the city. “Everything looks a lot smaller, for one.”

“You were just a kid when you moved, weren’t you?” Teddy asked, wrapping his fingers around the cup of coffee in his hands and shifting closer to Billy on the bench in the little park. “You’re a lot taller than you were.”

“And the world’s gotten smaller in general.” Billy sat back, arm across the back of the bench, and surveyed his old stomping grounds. The restaurant names had changed, most of them, and he remembered the little dog park being bigger, the dogs scarier, but the feel of the city still rumbled in his bones. “You know, I’ve been back here a dozen times—dozens, even—but it’s always been for work. I’ve never just bummed around town without a schedule or a plan, or Emma riding my ass.”

“There’s an image I didn’t need.”

“Ugh, thanks. Share the pain, why don’t you.”

They sat another minute longer in companionable silence, broken only by the high-pitched yapping and wuffing of a fight breaking out on the dog run.

“There used to be an arcade not far from here,” Billy mused aloud, the map in his brain from when he was small redrawing itself over the streetscape in front of him. “All kinds of old quarter games. Tetris. Marvel vs. Capcom. _Mortal Kombat,_ ” he sighed, the memories coming faster and thicker now. “I used to be really good at that, once upon a time. We would pass the arcade when Uncle Pete picked us up from acting class. We’d ask to go in and play, just one game, and he’d say no until we begged. But somehow he always had handfuls of quarters in his pockets.” 

“If it’s the one I’m thinking of,” Teddy said thoughtfully, “it might still be there. I was always better at the driving ones, but the fighting games are cool too. I guess.”

“You’re kidding. It’s been over a decade, and arcades died a screaming death ages ago.”

“Not kidding. It’s officially hip and retro now, but the machines still work.”

Billy stood up, the excitement rushing through him. For a moment he was a kid again, and Uncle Pete had just revealed a pocketful of coins to fund their afternoon. “Finish your coffee. We need to hit the bank and get some quarters, and then I am going to kick your _ass_.”

* * *

Hip-and-retro wasn’t the atmosphere Billy remembered from the old arcade, but the building looked fundamentally the same underneath all the goofy neon signs. Either Teddy had been downplaying his old experience at Mortal Kombat or Billy was a hell of a lot rustier than he thought, because a roll and a half of quarters later, Billy still couldn’t touch him.

No-one seemed to blink at the sight of the two of them bashing away at the machine in the corner, just another two regular guys, blending in to the crowd.

It felt so much better than he’d remembered.

“Finish him!” Teddy crowed as the game flashed the same old insulting message, and his pixilated avatar promptly pulled Billy’s guy’s spine out through the top of his head. “Did your uncle seriously let you play this when you were nine?”

“Uncle Pete tried to be ‘responsible parental figure,’ but he was always happier being ‘fun uncle.’” Billy sighed and conceded the match. He reached into his pocket for another couple of quarters, but his phone started to vibrate on the other side before he could grab them. “Shit,” Billy muttered. Who was calling him? Teddy was here, so the burner phone was back at the apartment.

_JADIS_ read the screen, and the blood drained from Billy’s face. “I turned off the ‘find my phone,’ I swear I did,” he muttered, panic-stations a go. “Emma?” he answered, keeping his voice light. Maybe the bleeping and blooping in the arcade behind him would sound enough like a casino to fool her. Damn; what time was it supposed to be in Vegas? Three hours behind? Four? Why couldn’t he remember?

“William,” her voice came through, cool and clear. “I presume, from the media coverage, that you’ve been enjoying yourself?”

“Uh. Yes, definitely.” That much was true. Teddy had sprinted over to the main counter and grabbed a pen as Billy answered, and was only now on his way back. “Everything okay there?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” Emma replied, moving away from the phone for a moment and then her voice cutting back in more clearly. “The table read for Freeze Factor has been pushed back, but don’t change your flights—I still need you here by the second of January. We have prep to do before the People’s Choice awards and we’re already losing time.”

“What kind of prep do we need to do?” Billy objected. What flights had he given her on the fake itinerary? Shit. “I show up, get a suit, Pierrot yells at me about shaving with the grain while he fills my hair full of goop, and then we walk the carpet. Same old same.”

Teddy made a dark face at him, then scrawled something on the paper in his hand.

_Need help?_

“We need to make plans with David Alleyne, for one thing, and set up strategy. Suit fittings don’t happen in minutes, you know.”

Billy gestured at him to bring the pen closer, then took it, pinning the phone with his shoulder.

_Okay for the moment. I think._

“I’ll be back on time,” Billy promised.

“And make sure to keep Thomas out of trouble on the flight. The last thing we need now is a repeat of Boca.”

“I don’t control him any more than you do,” Billy fired back. He couldn’t exactly say ‘no, because he’s going to be flying back from Vegas while I’m on the other side of the country.’

“Where is he now?” Emma asked, and the background music in Billy’s head screeched to a halt. “He’s not answering my texts. Put your brother on the phone.”

“He’s, uh.” _Shit._

Billy made a face at Teddy and scribbled his request on the notepad. _Call Tommy! He has to call Emma NOW!_

“He’s in the bathroom, I think.” _Shit. I should have said he was out. Shit shit shit._

Teddy scrambled for his phone, pulling up his contact list.

“And where are you? Tell me you’re not gambling now. It’s one in the afternoon, William. Are we going to have to discuss an intervention?”

_He’s not answering_ , Teddy scrawled, eyes wide.

_Call Kate! 555-555-1212_

“I’m in Las Vegas, Emma,” Billy lied through his teeth. “It’s what people do here. That or showgirls, which really aren’t my speed.”

Teddy took a couple of steps off into the corner and began to speak rapidly. “…tell Tommy to call Emma—she’s giving Billy the fifth…”

“I should hope not, considering everything I’ve been going through for you these past few months.”

 “I know,” Billy said humbly, watching Teddy until the moment Teddy’s shoulders sagged with what was hopefully relief. “You’ve been a gem, Emma, and I’ve been ungrateful.”

_She says she’ll tell him_

The moment of silence on the other end made Billy wonder, for a moment, if he’d pushed it too far, but her reply when it came, didn’t hold as much suspicion as it probably should have. “Yes, well. Thank you, William.”

Teddy’s phone blooped. He held it up so Billy could see.

**Kate: He’s looking for the phone**

“Has Thomas come out of the bathroom yet?”

 “Uh- I told him to call you on his phone, my battery’s running low,” Billy stalled. _Please, Tommy, please please-_

“For heaven’s sake, William, take better care of your things. Or do I need to send Wendy out to keep track of your electronics for you?” The phone line cut out in that half-second ping that always signaled Emma’s call waiting. “Never mind, that’s him now. We’ll talk more once you’re home.”

She hung up without a proper goodbye, and Billy let out a long breath.

“Well,” Teddy said after a second, typing something out on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. “That was dramatic.”

“Of course it was,” Billy huffed, the tension of the moment collapsing into humor instead of panic, the new thing that seemed to happen when Teddy was nearby. “I am an _actor_ , after all.”

“You’re going to be squashed meat in a moment,” Teddy taunted him, fishing a couple of coins out of his pocket. “Or are you too wired now for another round?”

“I will use my adrenaline to my advantage and retake the field,” Billy vowed, leaving his phone out where he could see it.

A text from Tommy did come in a few minutes later, but all it said was **No crisis. Tab +1.**

Billy could deal with that when the time came.

* * *

**Fanforum: Admin Thread – Private!!**

 

Lys: HYPERVENTILATING

HE'S HERE THEY'RE BOTH HERE I'M ON MY PHONE OH MY GOD

Will isn't in Vegas, you guys. He's here. In New York. How does she know, you might ask? Because they (ETA: he and Theo) are IN my arcade. I didn't realize it at first because they're really dressed down but he (ETA: Theo) just came running over to borrow a pen from the desk and it's him.

 

Cate: ??? Who's 'they'?

Also, breathe.

 

Lys: Sorry - fixed the post.

Okay. So I work at the arcade down the street from school, right? Making change and kicking the machines until they work again and stuff. And like I said I didn't realize it at first, but Will and Theo are in here _right now._ They've been on the Mortal Kombat machine for, like, half an hour.

(Will sucks at it, ftr. Theo keeps winning. He does little victory dances when he does and I think Will's gonna smack him. And I will always love Will and he’s my forever fantasy boyfriend, but Theo is adorable and I want to smush his face.)

I'm taking pictures but I really don't want them to see me do it, so they're pretty shitty creepshots. 

_image attached: 12-30-2015-004521.jpg_

_image attached: 12-30-2015-004522.jpg_

_image attached: 12-30-2015-004523.jpg_

_image attached: 12-30-2015-004524.jpg_

You can't see it well here but Will's wearing a Rangers jersey and it's super-big on him so I'll bet anything it's not his. *cough*BOYFRIENDSHIRT*cough*

There's something going on now, though - Will got a phone call and that's when Theo ran over and asked to borrow my pen. He touched my hand and I pretended like I didn't know who he was, and I need to get nominated for an Oscar for this, guys. HE TOUCHED MY HAND AND HE HAS MY PEN. If he puts it into his mouth I’m going to lose my mind.

(His eyes are super blue, and he's got pierced ears all the way up - he's got a whole bunch of silver hoops in them. Not fakes!)

Right. phone call. Will's on the phone and he and theo are passing notes back and forth and now Theo's on _his_ phone and oops. coming this way. brb.

... okay, now he's not looking anymore. I didn't hear who he was talking to, but he told them to "tell Tommy to call Emma because she's giving Billy the fifth degree. She knows something’s up."

**_TOMMY AND BILLY._ **

I stg.

I have no idea what's going on, but Theo's rolling his eyes and Will looks stressed-out, and whatever it is has something to do with Tom.

 

Mandy: Oh my GOD guys, what if Tom and Kate went to Vegas to get married? And Will was down there with them to be the best man? If they're honeymooning right now then that would explain why Will was with them _then_ and in NYC _now_ , and why his manager is freaking out.

VEGAS ELOPEMENT. IT ALL FITS.

 

Lindasyy: You are SO LUCKY. See if you can get some video!!

(‘TOMMY’ AND ‘BILLY’ OMG. That’s adorable!! Brb I have to go edit all my fanfic.)

I bet that's exactly what happened. I can't check insta from work - has Kate posted anything today?? I wonder if she's p-g?

OMG their babies are going to be SO CUTE.

* * *

New York on New Year’s Eve was the place to be, apparently. Teddy wouldn’t know, at least not this year. The ball dropped on the television screen and he was faintly aware of the sounds of cheering that went with it.

The sounds of Billy’s gasps beneath him drowned out everything else. His skin burned, Billy dug his heels into Teddy’s ribs, scratched his nails down Teddy’s chest, hard. The world dissolved into white heat, the roaring of blood in his ears, and the pulsing desperate pleasure that fired through his body.

“Come on,” Teddy coaxed, curling his fingers tight through Billy’s and driving into him again, again, softer. Billy licked the words off his tongue, arched his back, clenched his hands and followed Teddy down into that welcoming abyss.

“Happy new year,” Billy murmured, his voice raw and his eyes glazed. His come puddled, cooling, between their stomachs.

“Happy new year,” Teddy promised, and stayed there, inside Billy’s body, under his skin, for as long as he could.

* * *

_Secret Vegas Wedding for Lehnsherr twin? No-one’s confirmed it yet, but rumors are flying that Tom Lehnsherr and Kate Bishop tied the knot on Tuesday at a private ceremony in Las Vegas. Tom and Kate have been dating for two years now, with no signs of engagement – or even moving in. If they didn’t actually do it, could this be Kate’s people starting buzz to put on the pressure? Tom better get a move on if he wants to lock this lady down for good!_

* * *

The time back home with Billy had been a fantasy world, a bubble encompassing them and keeping the outside world at bay. Aside from the handful of times Teddy caught Billy frowning at some email or another from Emma, or the one time he’d had to duck out of a bookshop to avoid a staring and whispering cluster of tourists, life had been blissfully, utterly disconnected from anything having to do with publicity stunts, California, or work.

It couldn’t last, nothing did, but by the time Teddy boarded his own flight back to L.A. the day after New Year’s, he was practically humming. Billy had gone on ahead; there was no way to get off the same flight at the same time at LAX and not be called out by someone. That put Teddy alone in economy class that afternoon, staring out the window as the plane pulled away from the gate.

Once he landed they’d have to go back to the way things had been, but if life was fair then Billy would be feeling the same kinds of changes he was. He was certain, now, that they could fit their worlds together in a way that only a week ago he would have sworn was near-impossible.

It had been a handful of small things that had done it. It started with those late-night confessions on the couch, Billy wrapped close in his arms and cautiously, carefully, opening up one more small piece of himself to let Teddy see inside.

Then a couple of nights after that, Teddy had come back with bags of groceries to find Billy _in the kitchen_ , crammed in close beside his mother, getting — of all things— a cooking lesson.

Not that he’d really worried about them not getting along while Billy was actually there. He’d been a lot more concerned that his mother would call later, after vacation was over, with a few carefully-worded points that would agree with every one of Teddy’s worries and confirm that he really was being an idiot. He hovered in the living room instead of jumping in to the conversation, taking longer than necessary to put everything away, and listened to her warm laugh mingled with Billy’s as he tried to master the garlic press.

“Did your mother never teach you any of this?” she asked kindly, and Teddy’s heart jumped into his throat. _Don’t tease him about his family, please-_

But Billy laughed before Teddy could make his way over to the door, and he sounded lighter, freer, than he had in a while. “Are you kidding? Cooking is her domain. We got chased out of the kitchen with a spoon and only let back in to wash dishes.”

“In that case, kiddo, you can core and seed the peppers. I didn’t let Teddy move out without essential life skills, so don’t think you’re going to get let off the hook.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Next time you visit we’ll try something more complicated.”

Something warm and lovely settled over Teddy, driving out the worry. Billy had looked over then, seen him watching, and smiled.

After that Teddy barely blinked when Billy had _hugged his mother goodbye_ at the door that last morning, the stress lines around his eyes all but gone. It had been impulsive, last-minute, he’d even seemed surprised at himself. But Mom had hugged him back, told him to buy a cookbook, and ruffled his hair before sending him on his way. 

The look she’d given _Teddy_ after Billy’s cab had pulled around the corner and out of sight had been different, less mother-hen, but all she’d done was hug him as well.

“He’s lovely,” she’d said. And followed that with, “don’t fall into the trap of being someone’s only shelter. Life is easier when you make each other stronger.”

He didn’t get it, not entirely, but her words sat with him all the way home. 

* * *

It could have been weird going over to Billy and Tommy’s place now that Tommy apparently knew about them, but it didn’t end up nearly as awkward as Teddy had feared. He did do a double-take when Billy buzzed him up and Teddy came into the condo expecting to see one of his boyfriend—only to be greeted by two.

Tommy—it had to be, even with brown hair now—waved cheerfully from the couch and flashed Teddy a crooked smile that had very little of Billy in it, and Billy himself, still unshaven from their trip, was leaning against the kitchen counter.

At least he was pretty sure that was the right way around.

He took the chance anyway, relied on his gut instinct to tell him which twin was which, and leaned in to give Billy-at-the-counter a quick brush on the lips.

Billy kissed him back, and oh thank God he’d chosen the right one.

“That’s actually kind of eerie,” Teddy remarked as he pulled away, and dropped his courier bag on the twins’ parquet floor.

“You think?” Tommy grinned and stretched out his legs on the couch before kicking off and pushing himself to his feet again. “You should have seen the look on Billy’s face when he got back.”

Billy grumbled into his coffee. “I didn’t expect to be coming home to a mirror-universe episode.”

“Should I ask why?” Teddy supposed he was asking just by virtue of the fact that he was asking if he could ask in the first place… but he hadn’t had any coffee yet this morning, either. It was supposed to be his last vacation day, unofficially/officially, before dealing with David and his rotating to-do lists of death.

He really wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with David right now, especially with his second, secret, Billy-only David-proof phone sitting heavy in his jeans pocket.

Tommy tapped his lip and pretended to be thinking of an answer, then grinned that cocky grin of his once more. “A favor,” he announced aloud, pulling a pair of running shoes from the pile by the door. “For my dear brother. It’s already been very useful, I’ll have you know. I signed autographs as you twice in Vegas.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Billy accused him, and the twins locked eyes for a beat before Billy snorted with soft laughter.

Tommy patted Teddy companionably on the shoulder as he passed by. “A chance to wreck Emma’s shit and find this asshole true love at the same time? This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid with my face on, you dumb jerk!” Billy called out.  

“No promises, pipsqueak!” The door closed behind Tommy-not-Billy, and Teddy snickered gently.

“I should probably be more worried about it than I am,” Billy confessed, “but the truth is, all the running around and messing with the press he’s doing… he’s giving us the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.”

“What’s that?” Teddy asked quietly, wrapping his arms around Billy as Billy leaned into him.

“A chance to just be me.”

That deserved a kiss, a long, slow lingering one that sent them stumbling for Billy’s bedroom, and then his shower… and then back to his bedroom again in a tumble of clothes, towels, bedsheets and sated, wet bodies. Teddy curled around him as though they’d fused that way under the clear winter sun.

It was too easy to relax into their last few hours of real vacation, the warm smells of the brewing coffee from Billy’s fancy machine, the feel of Billy’s incognito-beard scratchy against Teddy’s skin, the faint hum of the world going by outside without taking any notice of the two of them at all.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” Teddy walked his fingers down Billy’s bare arm, pausing to count the freckles that dotted their way down his golden skin.

“Ugh.” Billy curled in close, tangling his legs with Teddy’s. “Can’t it just be ‘stay in bed with you forever’? That’s my favorite option.”

“Don’t think so,” Teddy laughed softly. “Am I still your plus-one for the People’s Choice this weekend? As far as Emma and David are concerned, I mean.”

“So it’s not my devotion you’re doubting?” Billy raised his head from Teddy’s chest and his voice was light and teasing, but there was something wary in his dark, expressive eyes.

“Not at all.” Teddy held up a couple of fingers in the boy-scout salute.

“Unless something breathtakingly stupid happens, yes.”

“Don’t joke about that. Our track record sucks so far.”

Billy propped his head on his hand and sighed as he nodded. “Fair point. Sorry. Emma wants to have a meeting with all of us, and she’ll send you a ton of junk about suit fittings.”

“Ooh,” Teddy teased. “Do we wear matching ties? Cummerbunds? Should I bring you a corsage and we can pretend it’s junior prom?”

“I dare you to show up only in jeans.”

“I do that and you’re never getting out of the limo.”

“You think so?”

“I know you by now.”

“People’s Choice is an okay one,” Billy changed the subject. “It’s all ‘favorite actor’ and ‘favorite show,’ and since the American viewing public generally can’t tell good writing from a hole in the ground, it’s all the usual suspects winning. I don’t even know why I’m presenting this year. I haven’t been nominated for anything since the show ended.”

“Because you’re cute, and Emma’s trying to saturate every last news cycle with pictures of your adorable face?” Teddy reached out and squished Billy’s cheeks, making his mouth move in and out like a goldfish.

Billy swatted him away. “I cannot wait until this week is over. On the plus side,” he offered up hopefully, “the Globes come on Thursday, and we can drink during the show.”

“Aren’t you nominated for a Globe?” Teddy tried to remind him gently, but it came out vaguely sarcastic anyway. “’Gay twin slurs words, falls on podium at last night’s Globes — Star now in rehab for heroin addiction?’ I can see the headlines now.” 

“I’ll be in good company,” Billy fired back, but he was still grinning. “Did you see Emma Thompson last year? She gets wasted every time and wanders around the after parties barefoot with a glass of champagne in each hand. She’s my patronus.”

“Ahh, it all becomes clear. My job is going to be to pour you back into the car afterward and make sure you get home alive?”

“No no no. Your job is to be my unbelievably gorgeous man-candy and make everyone who sees us green with envy.”

“Hmm. It’s a hard task.”

“But someone’s gotta do it.”

Teddy would have continued teasing him, maybe even tried to get more useful information out of Billy about the ceremonies or the after parties, or what the hell he was supposed to be saying on the red carpet and through all the photo ops, but his phone beeped at him. Not the Billy-beep, because Billy was in bed naked next to him, and there really wasn’t anywhere he could be hiding his phone on him at the moment.

Teddy would definitely have noticed.

It was Teddy’s regular phone, and that was David’s beep, which meant something was wrong because Teddy had explicitly said that he wasn’t coming back until tomorrow, which meant as far as David knew, Teddy was still in New York. So…?

He rolled out of bed and hunted for his jeans, found them crumpled up at the foot of the bed. He fished his phone out of the pocket and frowned at the text that blinked back up at him.

**David: What did you do?**

**David: Look at the hot sheets.**

**David: Call me!!**

“Is something wrong?” Billy sat up, the sheets tangled up around his waist and one of his legs.

“I’m not sure. Do you have your computer here?” Teddy padded back to the bed as Billy fumbled with the dresser shelf. He handed a tablet over without a word, only a furrow between his dark brows betraying his concern. “It’s probably nothing,” Teddy muttered, but he typed in _‘Theo Altman’ + gossip + 2 hours_ anyway.

**Not So Gay After All?** The headline blared. _Theo Altman turned up the heat over New Year’s with model Sylvie Lushton._

The picture underneath was one that Teddy recognized immediately. That is, he recognized the moment it had been taken.

He definitely remembered the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach, the darkness of the parking lot and the orange glow of the streetlight, and the complete and utter shock that had coursed through him when Sylvie had grabbed him and kissed him.

The part he didn’t remember was where the photographer must have been hiding to get the shot, because from this angle, Sylvie’s body pressed against his, his face partially obscured by hers, he sure as hell didn’t look all that shocked.

“What the hell?” Billy blurted out, and he recoiled from Teddy’s touch, everything about him tight, now, angry and wary.

“I swear to God, Billy,” Teddy fumbled for words that didn’t come easily, ones that wouldn’t sound fake, or cliché, or, or- “It’s not what it looks like.”

Those words definitely weren’t it.

* * *

_Blind Item: Their romance came out of nowhere, but these two men – one a former child star turned A-lister, one a hard-bodied movie-star wannabe – have been hot and heavy since they first appeared together publically back in October. Rumor said the whole thing was a fraud, a faux-mance arranged by their management to increase the A-lister’s media profile for awards season. It certainly seemed plausible._

_But if that’s the case, then why is the wannabe cheating on his A-lister boyfriend before the Globes – and with a girl, no less? Wannabe’s mostly known for his good looks, but sources who have worked with him say he’s an honest guy, and he’d never break a signed contract._

_Friends of the A-lister say that the relationship’s been a train wreck from the beginning, full of misunderstandings and ugly fights. Is that why wannabe took the chance to play around while our A-lister was a third wheel in Sin City over the holidays?_

_Worse yet, this model’s got a bad reputation for working the casting couch. Sources say she’ll do just about anything – or anyone – to get her face in the media eye. Whatever the truth is, we hope wannabe doesn’t fall too hard. He may not like how this love story ends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tempted to give this a 'mid-season' hiatus right here for a week or two, to give folks a chance to catch up on their reading. O:) 
> 
> (Face cast for Will is Vito Basso, and Brandon is Matthew Daddario.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a circle in a spiral or a wheel within a wheel... there are too many master plans in play, and pieces are beginning to crumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With endless thanks to Cris-art for art, support and unbelievable talent. You are my muse. And to mytsunami for advice and corrections on Rroma culture and dialects. Many, many thanks.
> 
> Permission for remixes, fanart, and other derivative works is given freely, on condition that credit is given to the original work & you link me so I can swoon. <3

“It’s not at all what it looks like,” Teddy repeated, and some of the guarded pain in Billy’s eyes seemed to fade. He didn’t jump out of bed and start throwing things, which was a good sign, so Teddy pressed on, trying to tumble the words out as fast as he could before Billy stopped listening. “Sylvie’s one of the models I used to work with, and this was taken at our last gig. You remember, they waxed my chest hair for the beach shoot. We said goodbye, and she kissed me, out of nowhere.”

“Just like that,” Billy replied, and the sarcasm was so thick in his words that they stung like darts, cut like knives.

“Yes, just like that,” Teddy insisted. “I told her I was gay, she apologized, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Please, Billy, I’m asking you to trust me.”

Billy’s eyes went to the tablet again, and the image up on the screen. He swallowed, tight enough that Teddy could see the bob of his adam’s apple, his jaw clenched. “Your hands are at your sides,” he said quietly, his whole body still braced to run, a faint tremble in his hands. “You look like you’re kissing her back, but you’re not holding her.”

“Because I wasn’t making out with her, not at all. She surprised me, and looking at this, she must have had the whole thing planned. This was after you and I had started going out. Fake-going-out, I mean.”

Teddy stumbled, then closed his eyes and counted back, picturing the marching squares in his dayplanner, every one filled with notes and call times, reminders and to-dos. “December fourteenth,” he said aloud. “That’s when this was taken. It _couldn’t_ have been this week, because I was in New York and you were with me the entire time, except for a few hours this morning.”

The distance between them was only a few inches, but the gulf seemed to stretch for miles. Only moments ago he’d been playing connect-the-dots with some of the smattering of freckles on Billy’s strong arm, now the bed had become the Grand Canyon.

Billy took the tablet and swiped the browser closed. His calendar popped up with another movement of his fingers, the days filled in with symbols and shorthand that Teddy couldn’t interpret. “That was the day before the party…” Billy trailed off, and cocked his head as though remembering something, or putting pieces together.

Good; it was good that one of them was, because Teddy didn’t have the first real idea as to what was going on. Terrible things seemed to be flying at them out of nowhere on a regular basis, all of it seeming to hint at some kind of malevolent plan… but with no-one he could name at the helm.

“Yeah, it was,” Teddy replied, encouraged. The memories of _that_ night were much better than anything to do with the beach shoot and Sylvie, and he let the smile come as it wanted to. “And the next night I was back where I belong. With you.”

Was that a smile on Billy’s face? He ducked his head so quickly that Teddy couldn’t tell, but his rounded shoulders were losing the tension, and the muscles of his jaw were no longer clenched so tight. When he looked back up, though, his eyes were still so full of hurt and uncertainty that the pain pierced Teddy right through the gut in empathy.

“And you didn’t make out with her.”

“I did not make out with her,” Teddy insisted firmly. “The only times I’ve ever touched her willingly have all been captured on film, work only. She’s sorely lacking in a number of things I need to find someone attractive.”

Billy snorted, and the rush of relief at that simple sound was enough to make Teddy’s knees weak. “A dick?” Billy asked.

“A soul.”

It was mean, it was uncalled for, but for once Teddy couldn’t bring himself to care. Billy made another one of those derisive snorting sounds that meant he was not-so-secretly pleased, and he started to unfurl, figuratively and literally. His back straightened, and only the flickering remnants of his shock and pain seemed to still be reflected in his dark brown eyes.

“I would have mentioned it,” Teddy said awkwardly, “but we weren’t exactly talking that week, and I thought she was just trying to, you know. Hook up. It never occurred to me that she might have something else in mind.” And then the roses had arrived from Billy, and all thoughts of Sylvie had flown out of Teddy’s head entirely.

“You think she was planning this all along?” Billy said, and he reached out – _he_ did! – and laid his hand carefully down over Teddy’s on the sheets.  

Teddy flipped his hand over and laced his fingers through Billy’s, trying to push all the confidence and solid reassurance he could through that single point of contact. “Maybe? Some kind of plan for publicity? It worked, obviously.” He sighed. “I just wish it hadn’t.”

“You’re a hot ticket now.” Billy shuffled closer, sheet still wrapped around his waist and covering his legs. He leaned in, like Teddy’s neighbor’s old golden retriever when she wanted reassurance and petting, and settled his weight against Teddy’s side. Teddy tugged his fingers loose and wrapped his arm around Billy instead, picking up on the cue. Billy sagged against him as though he’d just been waiting for that moment when Teddy would hold him up.

_How tired you have to be, going through life this way._

Did Teddy _really_ want to be famous now, seeing the toll it was taking on Billy every single day?

Maybe the benefits still did outweigh the risks. He’d reassess later.

The benefits… there were a lot of people who were theoretically benefiting from this sham of a sham of a fake that he and Billy were still perpetuating, lies stacked inside one another like those Russian nesting dolls.

Who would profit more if they were split apart?

“… or it was someone else,” Teddy voiced the idea aloud, and felt stupid even as he did.

“Like who?” Billy frowned, a crease forming between his brows. “You know what? I have a pretty good idea. But I really don’t want to think about it right now.”

“You’re not curious enough to try and get to the bottom of this?”

“Not now.” Billy tilted his head in and brushed Teddy’s lips with a gentle, testing, exploratory kiss. “Right now I intend to collect on the apology sex you owe me.”

“That _I_ owe _you_?”

“Sure. For not telling me that some crazy fame-seeker set you up for the paparazzi. I could call it damages for emotional stress.”

Now it was Teddy’s turn to snort, Billy sliding warm and firm into his arms. “Let me guess. These are the kinds of damages that can only be cured through magical cock.”

Billy nodded solemnly. “At minimum. But if you want, we could work out an ongoing payment plan.”

The way Billy’s hands were moving on his skin, and his lips on Teddy’s, Teddy really wasn’t in a position to argue the point.

Besides; he was reasonably certain—as Billy pressed him down to the mattress, hot mouth enveloping him and deft fingers opening him up—that he was being rather thoroughly forgiven.

* * *

 

 

(Twitter DMs)

 

Theo Altman @somecallmetheo

You need to issue a retraction *now*. You know damn well that never happened.

 

Sylvie Lushton @sylvielushton

It’s all right there on film, darling. We’ve always looked so good together, don’t you think?

Besides, a retraction will only make the gossip so much more interesting. Ooh, maybe I will do that after all.

 

Theo Altman @somecallmetheo

What are you trying to do? Do you have any idea what kind of a mess you almost made of things?

 

Sylvie Lushton @sylvielushton

Only ‘almost’? Pity.

 

(public Twitter)

Sylvie Lushton @sylvielushton

Shoutout to @somecallmetheo, blowing up my DMs. *blows kisses*

 

(Twitter DMs)

Theo Altman @somecallmetheo

You are unbelievable. I regret ever considering you a friend.   

* * *

The question of the photo leak throbbed in Billy’s mind like an open wound, regardless of what he’d said to Teddy earlier. No matter which way he turned it or held it up into the sun, the problem refused to come together, the answer refused to appear.

Sylvie had set Teddy up; that much he believed, and Teddy had sworn up and down before he left Billy’s place that he was going to take care of that end of things. He’d been on the phone with David as he’d headed for the elevator, Billy only able to overhear snatches of their tense conversation.

Billy pushed the button for the elevator in the glass lobby of Emma’s building and the doors slid open obediently, as though they had been waiting for his motion.

The more important question, was who had paid _Sylvie_? Someone must have. She had to be getting something out of this other than just publicity, didn’t she? Embarrassing Teddy for turning her down? In that case, why hadn’t she posted the pictures before, right after she’d had them taken?

For that matter, had Sylvie been sure that he _would_ turn her down? If not, why had she had the photographer waiting?

And that was where Billy spun off the rails every time he cycled through the ‘knowns’ in this particular equation, and why he was stepping off the elevator and into the hallway that led to Emma’s private office. She would have more information; she had to.  

There were simply too many moving pieces. It seemed to come down to this: who would have interest in seeing backlash against Billy, Teddy, the Lehnsherr Group, or any combination of the above? It would have to be someone who would have something to gain from a public admission of a faux-mance, or proof of an affair.

Brandon Sharpe?

That thought hit him like a bolt of lightning. There was little love lost between them; they filled the same very small niche and had been up against each other for roles since the beginning. But Brandon had never stooped to the really dirty tricks.

His mother, on the other hand… she would have every interest in seeing Billy’s star on the decline, and Brandon’s rising to take its place.

Billy stepped to the side as a PA went trundling down the hall. He leaned against the wall for a moment, face shielded by a tall potted tree, scrolling through his emails. Had he heard anything from Brandon since the party? No. What was the guy even doing these days?

“What were you thinking?” Emma’s voice snapped out and Billy looked up. She was speed-walking down the hall in that way she had of appearing to be totally under control, but moving at a pace far faster than anyone had a right to in four-inch stilettos.

She had her phone to her ear and she looked mad—maybe at him, or Teddy, maybe at whomever she was talking to—but either way, Billy felt a tight wave of relief that she didn’t seem to have spotted him. Emma kept on talking, stabbing at the elevator button as if it had personally offended her.

“That was extreme, and you had to know there would be backlash.”

Any impulse Billy might have had to step forward left him completely as a new set of possibilities began to unspool. _Emma?_ … something bigger was going on here than Billy had realized. But what? Was Emma somehow in cahoots with Sylvie’s agent as well? Was _that_ who was on the phone?

How many strings was she pulling, and where did he and Teddy fit in?

Emma stepped into the elevator and the doors slid closed behind her. The last snatch of conversation Billy heard was Emma replying, incredulously. “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

Billy turned and headed out the back way, ducking his head to avoid being caught on the hallway’s security cameras. Fuck Emma Frost, and damn her and all her manipulations! How long had she expected him to keep dancing like a puppet?

“This is my _life_ she’s messing with,” he growled out loud. His voice echoed back at him from the empty stairwell, followed by the loud bang of the door slamming closed behind him.

And it was; his entire life he’d danced to her tune, and grandfather’s. Only now he had something of his own, something that was worth fighting to protect. Maybe it was finally time he served Emma up a dose of her own medicine.

And he had three days until awards season really kicked off to figure out how he was going to do it.

* * *

 

Fanforum public thread:

 

Strawberry Babe: Told you so.

~~Will x Brandon – LehnSharpe! Their love is REAL! ~~

 

Mandy: Whaaaaaaaaat? Tell me this isn’t happening.

Becca: Relax – timeline does NOT check out. We know for sure that Will and Theo were in NYC on New Year’s Eve, so Theo was def not macking on swimsuit girlie in L.A. at the same time.

Cate: Look at it logically; Theo’s been making headlines, so of course people are going to try to get in on that. Also the photos aren’t right.

Theo’s been growing his hair out for his movie, and we know from Lys’ arcade pictures that it’s about collar-length right now. In the photo of him kissing Sylvie Lushton, it’s a good inch shorter. Even if we make allowance for style differences and hair gel that’s still at least ½” difference, which would usually take about a month to grow.

So _that_ picture has to be from late last year, when he was still on contract with Calvin.  (see Theo’s board – they have his work timeline all figured out.)

QED: It’s probably b-roll of some kind from a pro shoot and someone’s trying to make quick cash.

* * *

Teddy closed the door to his trailer on set and – yeah. He closed the _door_ to his _trailer_. Because that was something that happened now. It was a tiny trailer, to be fair, with only room for a closet and a bathroom (sort of) and a cot. But it was better than a shared green room, and a million times better than hanging around while the lighting guys did whatever it was that lighting guys did, and wardrobe complained to the continuity guy that sitting down gave his shirt wrinkles.

And it was only the second day. He was allowed to still be awed by his circumstances on the second day, right? Even if it was a low-budget thing without a distributor, even if he’d been called in last-minute as replacement cast instead of being a first draft pick… dude. He had a trailer. And focusing on that made the drama of the last day a little less painful.

Teddy flopped down on the rickety cot and kicked his feet up, fishing his phone out of the cubby thing on the wall. They were banned on set, for lots of reasons, and that left his little space as one of the few places where he could reach out and touch someone.

**Teddy: I have a trailer.**

**Billy: You said that yesterday. :)**

**Teddy: It’s still awesome.**

**Billy: Having fun yet?**

**Teddy: I’m a lead in a MOVIE, Bee! How could I not? This is my life’s dream, right here.**

**Billy: Unh-hunh. And?**

**Teddy: And I’m bored out of my mind. They’re setting up shots and don’t need me for another hour. Before that, something happened to one of the fuse boxes and we had to wait while union guys fixed it. If this keeps up they’re going to have to put up lamps so it still looks like daytime.**

**Billy: Welcome to show biz.**

**Teddy: The glamour?**

**Billy: The glory.**

A knock sounded at the trailer door, and Teddy unfolded himself, tapping out a last quick message.

**Teddy: Someone’s at the door; maybe they’re ready for me.**

Vaguely conscious that the wardrobe ladies would murder him and hide the corpse if he caused more wrinkles, Teddy didn’t try and shove his phone in the pocket of the snug jeans they’d poured him into that morning. It was still in his hand when he opened the door and found himself staring into a very familiar pair of green eyes.

“Sylvie? What the hell are you doing here?”

His thumb found the record button on his phone and he hit it, just because.

“You aren’t pleased to see me?” Sylvie pouted and tossed her golden hair back over her shoulder. “Theo, I’m wounded.”

“After the bullshit you just pulled? Why would you ever think I wanted to spend time with you again?”

There was no-one hanging around in the lot, not that Teddy could see, but any second now someone would walk by and see them. Then there would be more rumors and more explaining to do and he really did not want to deal with any of this crap. Not now.

He stepped aside and let her push her way up into his trailer, but he set his phone down on the small table, with a quick check to make sure the little red light was still on.

Just in case.

“You can’t be here,” he said firmly. “I’ve told you more than once, I’m not interested.” There; and now that was on tape as well.

“But don’t you want to be?” Sylvie draped herself across his cot, and she sighed. “I don’t mean like that, if you really are only into boys—which I honestly don’t understand. We could have had _such_ fun if you weren’t such a party pooper. But we could be very good for each other, Theo. And half the work is already done.”

That cemented the suspicions he’d had all along, but it still shook him to hear it so overtly. “How much did you sell those pictures for? It had better be enough to hire yourself a good lawyer.”

“Don’t be boring, darling. Money wasn’t the point.” Sylvie sat up, seemingly undaunted. She crossed her legs, but her fingers tapped rapidly against the bedspread. “Look at the exposure! We’re all over the gossip blogs, and US Weekly called my agent to get pull quotes, which could mean a cover splash. That’s good business, Theo. Consider the situation logically, instead of worrying about your _pride_. You’ve got the name, we’ve both got the beauty, and I can get you in places that won’t give a gay man the time of day. It makes sense.”

Teddy took a deep breath and tried to force the red edges of temper back from around his vision. “And why would you ever think I could trust you? After you set me up like that? And not just me — you caused problems for Bi- for _Will_ as well. His management is furious! At both of us! If you think Emma Frost is going to lie down and let you throw one of her clients under the bus, you’re insane.”

Sylvie rose up onto her feet, graceful in her sky-high heels, and stepped toward him. Teddy stepped back reflexively, that single movement banging him up against the wall in the tiny space. “Let her fuss and fume. Emma Frost doesn’t scare me at all.” Sylvie’s smile was that predatory look he remembered from before, something he recognized too late. She trailed her finger down his chest. He swatted her hand away, but she didn’t flinch. “Everyone knows that Lehnsherr is only using you, so why not turn the tables? Whatever Frost is paying you for that contract, I’m sure we can work out something better. We both need the coverage, Theo, and there’s no such thing as bad press. Only useful attention.”

“He’s not using me,” Teddy protested, but the smile on her face didn’t waver. “Will and I are a couple. And there’s nothing in the world you could offer me that would convince me to betray his trust.”  

“Please, darling. You don’t imagine Lehnsherr was in Vegas without you over the holidays just to play some blackjack. You’re so naïve.” She was so close and under his nose that he could smell the flowers in her shampoo, see the glitter that she’d swept along her eyelids. She was a snake, a gold and green serpent with her eyes on the prize, and for reason she’d decided that he was her key. “But he did give us a _perfect_ opportunity.”

That wasn’t happening. It was so damn hypocritical of him to be angry at her, for trying to do what he and Billy had started out doing, but things were different now.

He and Billy had gotten into this together. And now Teddy had a lot more to protect.

“Get it clear,” Teddy said, as firmly as he could manage without actively shouting in her face.  “I’m not interested. Not in a hook-up, not in a relationship, not in any kind of business relationship with you. Not now, not ever.”

The hiss of air between her teeth was a warning, but the follow-through never came. Sylvie smiled at him instead, her eyes glittering green and cold. “We’ll see about that. I waved to every security guard on set, you know. Everyone knows I’m here. With you. Alone.”

And then, oh then, the rush of satisfaction, because he’d beaten her at her own game. “No, Sylvie, we won’t.” And he was able to keep his calm and the look of confusion on her face, the way she moved back a step when he pushed forward, it was so worth it. “Because I don’t trust you, remember? And I’ve got this entire conversation recorded. Time, date, you confirming that we’ve never slept together, all of it. And if you try and fuck me over, or even suggest one more time—to anyone!—that we were ever together, I’ll release the whole thing.”

Her face falling was another look he was going to remember for a while, but this time tinged with a sense of innocence lost. He’d liked her, once. Not really as a friend, but as a co-worker and an ally.

How many magazines had ads inside with the two of them wrapped around each other? How many posters with him staring passionately into her eyes? He was never going to be able to look at his portfolio again without remembering this visceral crawl of violation.

“You’re an asshole, Theo Altman.” Sylvie turned on one heel and strode for the door. She paused, just for a moment, noticing his phone, but he beat her to it, scooping it up and shoving it into his pocket before she could make a grab. “Oooh!”

“Get out, Sylvie.” Teddy pushed the door open and held it for her, looming over her with his extra inches of height. She kept her head up and glared at him as she stalked down the stairs, not looking in the direction of the guard in the golf cart who went beetling by.

He was tempted to shout ‘and stay gone!’ after her retreating back, but that seemed like rubbing salt into the wound. That and he didn’t really feel satisfied, even as he let the door close behind him again and he stopped the file from recording.

Sylvie was the more egregious, obvious example of someone trying to hitch themselves to him, now that he’d had a taste of success. And success that wasn’t even his own. He’d done exactly the same thing, even if it had been all above-board and through proper channels. It was only the way they’d gone about it that was different.

Did that matter enough, in the grand scheme of things?

It did, because it had to.

**Teddy: Not a set call. You’ll never guess who just showed up.**

**Billy: who?**

**Teddy: Sylvie. The model?**

**Billy: Oh, I know which one you mean. Believe me. What did she want?**

**Teddy: Exactly what you’d expect. And she was the one who set the whole thing up. She wanted me on board for the drama / publicity.**

**Teddy: I got her admitting it on tape. I’ll play the recording for you when I get home, if you want to hear it.**

**Billy: Do we need to brace for tabloids?**

**Teddy: I don’t give a shit if we do or not, pardon the language.**

**Teddy: I don’t think so, but even then.**

**Teddy: I don’t care what they say.**

He paused and considered what he’d just typed. Was it true? Yes. One of the PAs knocked on the door and he answered it, pausing only to finish his text.

**Teddy: All I need is you believing in me. And there’s my call now.**

**Billy: You know I do. Now go knock ‘em dead.**

* * *

_Doom doom doom –dum-dum-doom—dum-dum-doom…_

“Billy.” Someone was shaking his shoulder and couldn’t they tell he was still asleep? Billy shoved his head under the pillow, a pillow that was warm and smelled like Teddy. “Billy, come on.”

“m’ not awake.”

“Your phone is playing the imperial march.”

That was not good. That was why he had the imperial march as a ringtone for _certain people_. Billy rolled over, squinting at the rising sun shining through the horizontal slats of Teddy’s window blinds. The night before came back to him with perfect clarity—meeting Teddy on set, out for dinner where they got photographed being cozy like good professional puppets, then heading back to Teddy’s shithole apartment for some decidedly not-in-the-contract on-getting.

And now it was morning, his phone was ringing with Emma’s ringtone, and why was she bothering him? People’s Choice wasn’t until tonight. He could sleep in.

He fumbled for the phone, somewhere in his jeans, which were somewhere on the floor, and hanging half-upside down, his torso dangling off Teddy’s bed, he answered. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” It was Emma’s voice, and Oh God- the adrenaline hit him fast, even before he knew the details. That was the trouble voice, one that had been ingrained into him as something-to-obey for the last decade-plus of his life.

“In bed, I was out late. On a date you arranged. Why?” He went with grouchy. Grouchy would give him some time to regroup and figure out what he’d done this time.

“Because you were supposed to be here, in my office, ten minutes ago.”

“Shit.”

“Language, William.”

The bed moved as Teddy got up behind him, and Billy had to jam his hand against the floor to keep from falling off. “I can be there in twenty, no—twenty five—”

“Be ready in ten minutes, because I’ve already sent a car to come get you. Honestly, William, I thought we were beyond this whole ducking out of your responsibilities phase with you by now. You’re as bad as your brother.”

“You’re sending a car?” his voice rose in a panic and he squeaked at the end. Teddy’s eyes had gone wide and he was watching the whole thing play out, his jeans halfway up his (gorgeous, amazing, let me die between his thighs) hips.

“Be at your door and ready. I’m already behind on my day, thanks to you.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” He hung up on her, and his heart was racing in a panic. Tumbling off the bed seemed easier than fighting to sit back up, and he slid onto the floor inelegantly as ever. “Shit shit shit _shit_. I forgot a meeting, and Emma is sending a car to the condo right now. I can’t get back there in five minutes. Even if I could fly, I couldn’t be there on time. She’ll know I was out. She’ll figure out I was here.”

Teddy grabbed his forearm and helped him up, and the marks along his shoulder from Billy’s teeth were still a dark and vivid red. _Mine_. But not for much longer if he couldn’t fix this.

“She can’t know that,” Teddy objected, pulling him in and kissing his forehead before letting him go again and doing up his pants. “Just tell her you ran out to get a coffee and got stuck in a line, or something.”

“She’ll know,” Billy hauled his shirt on, but found himself staring at the tag. Backwards. He pulled it off, flipped it around, and pulled it on again, this time inside-out. “Somehow, she always knows. There was this time when-” he paused, and the idea was so obvious, why hadn’t he thought of it before? “I’ll call Tommy. He’s home. He can stall for me.”

Speed dial 2, and one ring, two – he was wasting time that he should have been using to call an Uber, and-

“Yo.”

“Tommy, hi, listen, I need your help.”

“You need a lot more help than I can give you, butthead.”

“Shut up and listen. I’m at Teddy’s but I’m late to a meeting with Emma and she’s sending a car. I need you to stall. Just… tell them I’ll be back soon. And I will.”

“Would that be the driver who just buzzed from downstairs?” Tommy answered, and from the beeping noise in the background, he was probably checking the lobby’s security feed. “Yep. That’s one of Emma’s.”

“Shit, dammit!”

“Relax, little bro. I got this.”

Billy tried to breathe out, but the panic had taken hold around his chest like it used to when he was younger and faced with the certainty of consequences. “How? Tommy, what are you going to say?”

“Say, nothing. But I’m borrowing one of your shirts. None of my shit is dorky enough to pass off as yours.”

“What?” The shuffling sounds of drawers being opened and shut filtered through the phone line. “Tommy, no. You’re going to screw this up. We haven’t been able to pull this off in years.”

“Relax, will you? I dyed my hair back for this. If you think I’m not going to take the chance to fuck with her, you’ve forgotten everything you ever knew.” Billy’s own clipped tones came over the phone speaker, tinny and familiar. “I can handle this. I’ll let you know what happens.” 

And then he hung up. Billy stared up at Teddy, his eyes wide. “Apparently I am Tommy and he is me today. This is going to go so wrong. I can feel it in my bones.”

“You never know,” Teddy offered up, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe he’s a better actor than you’re giving him credit for.”

“Maybe.”

“In the meantime, if you’re Tommy, get out of my bedroom. No-one in here except the guy I’m dating.”

“That’s not even funny.”

* * *

The car ride was easy; the drivers knew Tommy and Billy, some of them had been really nice when the twins were younger, but none of them knew the pair well enough to catch on to the substitution. Especially when Tommy spent the car ride scrolling through photos on his phone, trying to remember exactly how Billy’s mouth quirked up, which eyebrow he used when he was being a shit. Because that was the sort of thing Emma would catch in an instant. He might be a smart-mouth ass, but Tommy knew better than even Billy not to underestimate the axis of evil.

Sitting face to face with Emma in her office, that was harder. But still doable, considering how much she wasn’t looking at him while she ranted. Her silver-manicured nails tapped on her desk in an almost hypnotic rhythm, and he had to concentrate not to focus on the beat.

“Your grandfather is not at all pleased with the direction the publicity has started to take, William. If Theodore is no longer on board, we need to know now so that we can do effective damage control.”

What the hell was she talking about? Billy’s last whine had been that they were playing real love on the down-low, but making nice for the management.

It had to be the photos plastered all over Twitter.

“You mean the pictures with what-her-name?” His voice wasn’t quite right, and he coughed to cover it before trying again. What would Billy say? For all their experience with assholes, he was still hopelessly naïve. “Theo had nothing to do with it. He said he didn’t even know they were being taken.”

“You’ve been in this business long enough to know that you can’t believe anything anyone says, William.”

“Does that include you?” Tommy shot back, before remembering that he was Being Billy, and that wasn’t the right kind of mouthing off.

“Don’t get smart.” Emma swiveled her chair around and focused on him rather than her computer screen. Her voice softened, but her eyes didn’t. They never did. “This is all for your benefit, William. Coming out—well. It was the right thing to do on a personal level, I’m sure, but it’s left you in a more precarious position than you know.

“We have one chance, one season, to spin everything properly so that you keep getting the kinds of roles you deserve, instead of being left with ‘sassy best friend’ roles secondary to straight C-listers for the rest of your career. You can’t risk being seen as unwholesome. Middle America still has a lot of clout, and China – well. That market is a whole different story.”

Tommy folded his arms in front of his chest and frowned right back. Was this the kind of conversation she had with his brother on a regular basis? No wonder he sulked. “You need me to be corporate gay. Unthreatening, happily monogamous, neutered? Are you going to set us up with fake kids and a white picket fence next?”

“We need uncontroversial, likeable, _masculine_. Nothing that will make the wine-slugging mommy-bloggers stop bringing their boyfriends to your movies.”

“Nothing that will remind them that I suck dick and that’s weird.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed at him, and Tommy shut up.

“Show up at People’s Choice and the Globes, smile, and _behave_. You and Theo will make an appearance at the Vanity Fair party following the Globes ceremony. Dressing down is fine, but nothing too disheveled.

“You need to sell the notion that even if Theodore did cheat on you, you’ve forgiven him. And try and stay out of the news for anything negative this week, William. The point of all this is to keep you in the public eye, not destroy your ability to open a film.”

Tommy bit his tongue and channeled Billy as best he could. “I thought the point of this was to get me a date for the awards, not to run some kind of… _propaganda_ machine.” She ignored him and he reconfigured his face into Billy-pouting-mode. “Fine,” he sighed. “Whatever. Not like I ever get a say in my own life anyway.”

That, Emma nodded at, and Tommy had never wanted to throw something at her so badly in his life. “Now you’re getting it.”

Emma’s phone blooped at her and when she picked it up, Tommy started to rise slowly to his feet. He’d had the lecture, now he could slide on out of here, report back to his idiot brother, and get away with everyone’s dire little secrets intact.

“Send him in.” Emma put her phone down and caught him halfway out of his chair. “Sit down, William. We’re not done yet. This was supposed to be my next meeting, but since you’ve thrown my schedule all off by being inconsiderate, you stay.”

Tommy let go and _flumphed_ back down into the chair. The door open and a black guy stormed in, fire practically coming out of his nose. Tommy gave him the once-over. New client? That was news, even to him. He was a little older than the twins, hot in a guy-accountant kind of way, and he carried a leather folio like a weapon that he was going to brain Emma with.

_I like him already._

Emma didn’t blink, waiting until he was into the room, door closed behind him. “I’m glad you could join us,” she said coolly. “David Alleyne, William Lehnsherr.”

From the look this guy David — _Theo’s agent, that’s who he was_ —was giving Tommy now, he thought about as highly of Billy as he did of Emma. Which was to say, Tommy was going to enjoy the hell out of this.

_Now, how much more chaos can I cause?_

“I thought this was going to be a private meeting” David said, looking daggers at Tommy.

“William is involved in the matter at hand,” Emma replied coolly. She didn’t invite David to take a seat. He took the chair opposite hers anyway, his back rigid. “Assuming we’re following the original agenda.”

“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” David’s gaze moved between the pair of them. “Whose agenda? Setting Theo up for those photographs was completely counter to the original proposal. At the barest minimum you needed to let us know first, so we could come up with an appropriate response before the tabloids descended.”

Tommy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Now this was getting interesting. “Are you saying that our team was responsible for the kiss shots?” He cocked an eyebrow at Emma. Not like she would admit it even if she was.

“Don’t be ludicrous. It was far too amateur a job.” Emma sniffed. “Our photographers are much better than that.”

“What’s your endgame, Frost?” David snapped, not standing down despite Emma’s denial. “I’m not going to allow you to use my client as a tool in some alternative plan. We had a simple deal.”

Emma’s brow lowered a little, the only sign Tommy could see that she might be flustered. “We have the same endgame as you.”

“Somehow I doubt that—”

“International success,” she continued, as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “and eight-figure contracts. If that’s not your goal, then you’re doing your clients a disservice.”

“Does it matter if we get there over the bodies of the fallen?” Tommy replied whimsically, stirring the shit just for the hell of it.

“Yes!” David glared at him and Tommy smiled serenely back. It wasn’t very Billy-ish, but he was having fun. “You changed the deal, so I am too.”

“We haven’t changed anything. The contract remains. Theodore acts as William’s boyfriend for the duration of awards season —which is over soon, thankfully for everyone involved—and he gets networking assistance. Assistance, which, I might point out, has already been tendered in spades.”

David stabbed a finger at Tommy. “You still need Theo, a lot more than he needs you.”

Tommy’s pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone to glance at the screen.

**Billy: What’s going on? What’s she saying?**

Emma sighed heavily. “William, put that back. Whoever it is can wait.”

**Tommy: Alleyne is here, more later.**

**Billy: wh**

**Billy: at?**

**Billy: tommy what the hell is going on**

He turned the phone to silent and shoved it back in his pocket. When he looked up again, Emma’s eagle eye was turned on him. She flicked a glance down at his pocket, and the bulge of the phone that… that was in a different case than Billy’s stupid stars-and-galaxies sleeve.

There was no way _that_ would tip her off. Would it?

“What are you proposing?” Emma asked, and she was a lot calmer than Tommy expected, given David’s attitude problem. A look of surprise flickered quickly across David’s face as well, before he closed down again.

“I don’t pull Theo from the show tonight.”

“You’d be a fool to do that, and I know you’re not one of those.”

David set his jaw. “Will’s career will take the bigger hit from a faux-mance reveal than Theo’s will. He’s the up and comer eye candy, remember? The prop you needed?”

Tommy bubbled with rude comments to add, but Emma was still watching him and one more wrong move would turn this ugly, real fast. What would Billy do? He’d defend his guy to his last breath, the sentimental twerp. “That is unfair and-”

“Hush.”

“If you want Theo to walk the red carpet with you,” David said to Tommy, “tonight, Golden Globes, Oscars, any of it—we need more in return. He’s playing one of the leads in an indie project right now.”

“ _Evolution Ink,_ ” Emma nodded, then gave him a smooth, knowing smile. “It’s a very small budget, isn’t it? He could do so much better, with the right help.”

“Do that,” David replied firmly. “I want Lehnsherr money into the promotion. I don’t care how you do it, or what shell companies need to get involved, but he gets covers and air time, or we walk. Humiliating my client in the press was never part of this arrangement.”

Hunh. Alleyne might look like he was all wet compared to the Ice Queen, but he was standing up for Theo more than … well, than anyone other than Uncle Pete had ever tried to do for Billy and Tommy. That earned him a little respect.

Tommy sat up straighter. “I’d have no problem with that,” he said firmly. No, if anyone was going to soak dear old Grand-dad for some cash, it may as well be the guy who was fused to his brother by the dick. Emma was really giving him a look-over now, and he set his mouth firmly. “I know, I’m just ‘the talent.’ But you need me to play nice too. I like Theo. And I like him.” He pointed at David Alleyne, who did not react with a smile.

What would Emma’s next move be, now that he’d moved his pieces onto the board?

She stared him down, he stared back, and just when he was starting to think that she was reading his mind, she turned away, dismissing him without a word. “I don’t control the money,” she began, and David snorted in disbelief. “And whether you believe it or not, we have zero responsibility for this recent… media mis-step. But in the name of keeping faith, I will see what we can do. Bearing in mind that what you’re asking for is far more than a single red-carpet walk can cover in return.”

“Jesus, you sound like a pimp,” Tommy burst out, and David’s head snapped around in reaction. “What’s next, invoicing for the number of times they – _we_ – hold hands in public?”

_Shit._

“Charming language. Don’t do that again.” Emma waited, and then once he kept his mouth shut, kept talking, not reacting to his slip of the tongue. “I’ll send a proposal over to you in the morning. Let me know what you think.” There was no overt menace in her words, but sweetness in the way she seemed to be conceding defeat.

Now that he’d apparently won, David didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. Frustration and irritation seethed off of him in waves, and Tommy could almost sympathize. He tuned out and managed to send a quick ‘all clear’ text to Billy while Emma and David were passive-aggressive-ing all over each other about suit styles.

That part of this fresh new hell ended, finally, and he made it out to the hallway without Emma calling him on the carpet. Now to get back home and punch Billy in the nuts.

Except that he couldn’t drop the act just yet, because David had followed him out to the elevator.

“Will.” David greeted him coolly.

 _Jeez, this guy._ Tommy snorted. “That thing about pulling Theo out; that was a dick move, dude.” He gave up entirely on imitating Billy’s cadence. David wouldn’t have anything like a basis for comparison anyway.

“I’m looking out for my client – you heard Emma in there. That’s the job.”

Tommy shook his head, and brown hair flopped down into his eyes. He pushed it back impatiently. “No, you misunderstand. I’m surprised that you had the balls.” And he grinned his challenge.  _I know about the phone thing, you tricky bastard. That took balls too._ But not even Billy was supposed to know about that one, so he couldn’t let it rip.

_Who has the energy to keep up with all this lying bullshit, and remembering who knows what? I certainly don’t._

David didn’t take that well at all. He took a step toward Tommy, and he was taller than he’d looked back in the office. Tommy took a reflexive step back. “Frankly?” David said, and his voice never raised. “If I had my way, we’d have cancelled the entire thing the first time you hurt him. Considering the crap you’ve pulled, I should blow the whole scheme open to the press right now.”

 _Now it’s on._ “But you won’t. Because Theo won’t let you.”

“Theo doesn’t know what he wants. That’s why he needs a team who can help him navigate through this fucked-up industry until he’s got a few lessons under his belt.” David stabbed that finger at Tommy again, and Tommy resisted the urge to snap his teeth at it, Val Kilmer-style.  

“But when is he going to learn anything if you keep him under wraps, and plan his life out for him? You’re not mad because Theo’s chosen a different direction.” Tommy paused for a moment—to go fishing or not? “You’re mad because you’re not in the driver’s seat anymore. And someone else is reaping those sweet rewards.”

David flinched at that, and he knew he’d hit jackpot. “Believe whatever you like – but if you toy with him again, I will put the press on wide blast and you’ll be yesterday’s news.”

“Excellent speech – how long did you rehearse it? I’ll be sure to pass that on to Will.” Tommy gave up on the pretence altogether, the elevator dinging as it arrived.

David blinked, off-balance. “What?”

“Wrong twin.” Tommy flashed him a wide, shark-like grin and waited just long enough to really _enjoy_ the dawning look of comprehension on David’s face. “I’m Thomas. Will was a little… tied up this morning, and couldn’t make it. But I’ll be sure to let him know that he’s been put on notice. And because I’m a nice guy, I’ll give you some friendly advice.”

“What’s that?”

“Let it go. You’re not protecting Theo now. You’re just making yourself look like a jealous dick. And that’s never attractive.”

The elevator door slid open and right hand to God he could not have timed that better if he’d been on set again. Tommy stepped in, and got the bone-deep satisfaction of watching David’s face go through about six different emotions as the doors slid closed, and cut him off from view.

He had a flash of regret that he’d blown cover, because now David was probably going to run to Theo and be all wah-wah about it. But oh, had that last moment ever been worth it.

Tommy’s phone was buzzing at him again, and he thumbed it on as he pulled it from his pocket, not even needing to look. “Keep your panties on, little brother. Let me fill you in on what you missed. To start with, Emma’s worried about the homophobic soccer mom demographic. She _absolutely_ does not want you to do anything at the Globes or the afterparties that could ruin your good-little-boy image…”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Globes night! The stars are out, the party's started, and allowances can surely be made for getting carried away by the moment.

**TRANSCRIPT: E-Now Globes Awards Show**

**Alison:** We are live, people, at this year’s Golden Globes awards. The stars are making their way down the red carpet as we speak.

[film clip of the carpet walks plays on the screen, noise of photographers shouting] “To your right, Brad, to your right!”

“Out of the background-“

“Who’s your date tonight?”

“Alicia! Let us see your smile!”

[cut back to the studio, presenters Alison Blair and Trish Walker seated on high stools, New York City backdrop in the windows behind them.]

**Trish:** It’s mayhem out there! The show is ages away from starting, but the celebs are out in full force. I don’t think I’ve seen so many sequins and sparkles in one place since Mamma Mia closed on Broadway.

**Alison:** Ricky Gervaise is hosting again, which means tomorrow we’ll be covering all of the times he managed to piss someone off-

**Trish:** Can you say ‘piss’ on air?

**Alison:** It’s cleaner than what I was going to say!

**Trish:** It’s cleaner than anything Ricky’s going to say tonight.

**Alison:** Who have we got on the feed right now? Jon Hamm. I’m going to come right out and say it. He’s delicious, and he wears a tux so well.

**Trish:** It was sad to hear about his recent breakup with Jennifer Westfeldt; they were one of those couples I was sure was going to last.

**Alison:** But he’s recently out of rehab, so maybe there’s hope for love in this crazy world yet. Speaking of crazy world, do you see who I see?

**Trish:** I do! That would be Will Lehnsherr, the former Disney star turned romantic lead, and this is his first Globes nomination. It’s a big step up from the Kids’ Choice Awards, but he’s not looking too overwhelmed. Now Will was the subject of some controversy recently-

**Alison** : Not Will himself, but his date. Until the People’s Choice awards Will’s only ever appeared at awards shows with his brother, but not this time. That’s Theo Altman with him there again tonight, and wow. You know what?

[Alison fans herself with her cue cards] I think I’m throwing over Jon Hamm for him. Look at that cute little butt.

**Trish:** Isn’t he the jeans model?

**Alison:** That’s the one. And he’s been making a transition into acting this year, showing up at all the big industry events, which has some people wondering if this is a romance, or just a studio setup. Conspiracy theories everywhere! The release of photos earlier this week apparently showing Theo in a clinch with Sports Illustrated swimsuit model Sylvie Lushton didn’t help.

**Trish:** Scandal! But it’s not like cheating is anything new among the glitterati, and there’s a long history of gay movie stars being forced to call themselves straight – Rock Hudson, James Dean-

**Alison:** James Dean? Are you kidding me?

**Trish:** There’s a biography of Eartha Kitt that you have to read. I’ll lend it to you.

**Alison:** But what it comes down to is, are these two cuties actually dating, or will there be a “mysterious” breakup in a few months?

**Trish:** I’m calling it now – look at the way they’re holding hands. Any body language expert will tell you that kind of leaning-in can’t be faked. Will looks like he’s going to eat Theo alive the moment they get some private time.

**Alison:** With a date who looks that good in a suit, can you blame him?

**Trish:** I’ll tell you who I do think is going to be over, Henry Cavill and his college-aged girlfriend. He pops up with a controversial Hot Young Thing just before the _Batman vs Superman_ publicity rounds start? That’s an angle, and I only hope _she’s_ in on it as well. I will bet you ten dollars right here, on camera, that they won’t make it until June.

**Alison:** You know, I’m not going to take that bet.

[both laugh]

[Trish talks to the camera and mimes using her fingers as a cell phone.] Henry, when you’re done with your freshman, call me.

* * *

**Saturday Night Social – Golden Globes Edition!**

Crack your knuckles and get your snacks in order, keyboard warriors, as we stream the red carpet and show live! The Globes is my favorite of the awards nights by far, mostly because the ceremony is a major booze-up. Unlike the staid and steady Oscars, the free alcohol flowing at the award season’s drunk little sister makes the hours upon hours of tedium actually enjoyable.

Who are your top picks this year? Lay your bets now!

 

  * **DurrrtyBird:** I can’t get over how hot Will Lehnsherr got. He was, like, this skinny little nerd on his sitcom and now I want to climb him.



> **WorkWorkWork:** Too late! I wish I could find someone who looks at me the way Theo looks at him. I swear to god, my panties are wet.
> 
> **DurrrtyBird:** Did you see ‘Vere Street’? I downloaded the cam just to watch Will’s ass shot a bunch more times.
> 
> **WorkWorkWork:** it’s all about the craft with you, isn’t it?
> 
> **DurrrtyBird** : Damn straight. Asses are a fine art.  

 

  * **MazisGangsta:** Where’d the other Lehnsherr brother go? Did he die? I haven’t seen him in _anything_



> **DrankThe Kool-Aid:** He DJs and shit. I saw him spin down at Story last year (Miamiiiiii!) and it was awesome. He’s dating a girl who was at school with Paris Hilton or some shit like that. One of the famous-for-no-reason super-hotties.  
>      
>  **MazisGangsta:** cool, cool. Child stars usually end up so fucked up. Are there any who haven’t crashed and burned later?  
>     
>  **DrankThe Kool-Aid:** Brit-brit had that big meltdown, Demi ended up in rehab, Miley Cyrus went weird. Drew Barrymore was an addict from day one. The Biebs is a fucking asshole now. Justin Timberlake? Jodie Foster? Only ones I can think of who didn’t have some kind of major breakdown.  
>     
>  **MazisGangsta:** Yeah, but Foster’s friends with Mel Gibson, which is its own brand of crazy.  
>     
>  **Movie-lovin-mama:** I was way too old when ‘Middle of Somewhere’ was on the air, but I have to say that I like the Lehnsherr twins. Will’s turned out  to be a really good actor, despite starting off on a kids’ show. I hope he ends up going far.

 

  * **JessicaRabid:** I don’t get how breathless people are getting over Disney Prince Will and his pseudo-boyfriend. Please. They are so obviously faking.



> **TWINSFAN4EVA:** Noooooo! U can’t say that. How can u be so blind? They R in LUV.
> 
> **JessicaRabid** : who let the twelve year olds stay up this late?
> 
> **TWINSFAN4EVA:** time zones, bitch.

 

  * **PersonalJesus:** Theo’s a total beard. You saw the pictures of him with that model, right? He was alllllll over that shit, and I don’t blame him. Boy is STRAIGHT.



> **DarkWingDuck:** Receipts or gtfo. I saw the pics, and he was not into her at all. No hands, bro. Who wouldn’t be smacking that ass up if they could?
> 
> **WonderGirl:** That’s so 1970s. Why would anyone want to fake being _gay_? It doesn’t make any sense at all. It’s not like gay actors get _more_ parts.
> 
> **PersonalJesus** : For publicity! We’re all talking about them, aren’t we?
> 
> **WorkWorkWork:** I hope they are faking because then they’ve got to be least heteroflexible, and then I could be the filling in that sandwich and die happy.
> 
> **PrincessPeach:** You know what would make  _me_ die happy? IF PEOPLE REMEMBERED THAT BISEXUALS FUCKING EXIST. (but I still think they're actually dating.) 

* * *

Billy had been really, really well-behaved so far tonight. His wine glass was still full, sitting in front of him untouched. He’d made it through the whole god-damned thing without drinking, and he wasn’t about to start now that they were hurtling at break-neck speed toward the most important moment of the night.

_Vere Street_ had been called twice so far, for music and for costumes, but not for Best Picture, and that was an Oscar-bait category, so what did that mean for his chances?

Teddy leaned over, his arm secure and strong across the back of Billy’s chair. He’d been doing all the heavy lifting while Billy quietly panicked, making the small talk, shaking hands, and all the while he hadn’t left Billy’s side. Somehow he’d managed to be there every time Billy turned around, his hand at the small of Billy’s back, or fingers laced together, or… just _there_. Knowing somehow that was exactly what Billy needed.

_I’m gonna marry this guy someday._

He’d made that joke to himself before, in moments of afterglow or bliss, but this was one he could see and feel, an image of a future that he had to make sure he didn’t screw up.

Anyway, in the world _outside_ of Billy’s head, Teddy was still leaning in, and a couple of people were smiling at them. “Don’t panic,” Teddy murmured softly. “I can hear you freaking out from here.”

“Easy for you to say.” Billy took a deep breath and tried to settle his pounding heart. “Just wait until we’re here for you, then see how calm you’ll be.”

Teddy snorted gently, and his hand settled, broad and warm, on Billy’s upper back. “Yeah, right. Think about it this way,” he suggested, and he was grinning, with a look of mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Leo’s up for what – his tenth time? If anyone is going to get the pity vote, it’ll be him. So if he wins…”

“For a movie about being chased by a bear for two hours?”

“I’ve seen that porn.” Teddy waggled his eyebrows and all of the tension drained from Billy’s spine in one swift rush. He snickered, and the world was carrying on around them, but Teddy was holding his gaze, his eyes so crystal blue and shining with pride—and all of it aimed at Billy.

“Whatever happens,” Teddy murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles on the nape of Billy’s neck, “we’ll have a good time tonight. Either celebrating because you’re awesome and everyone knows it — or because you’re awesome and I know it.”

“You are really good for my self-esteem, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re nominated for a Best-actor Globe, Bee. One of five people in the world this year who can say that.”

The room had gone quiet, a hush spreading thick across the audience as whatever commercial break had been filled. Billy snapped to attention, every fiber in his body strung tight. Looking around the room didn’t help calm his nerves. The old hands were relaxing, chatting away like this was nothing new, like it didn’t _matter_. He couldn’t be that casual, not yet, not when—like Emma kept saying—this was his chance to break out. Get rid of the sitcom kid and prove to everyone that he was an adult, dammit, and could act, and –

And he still desperately wanted those same old-timers to acknowledge him. To accept him as one of them, find a place for his name on the roster and tell him that this was somewhere he actually belonged.

He couldn’t focus on the host banter on stage, and put his hands on the table so that he wouldn’t pick at his nails.

“Nominees for the Best Actor in a Drama are! Will Lehnsherr, _Vere Street_.” The clip rolled, and Billy had to watch himself on the massive screen, his eyes burning bright and hair everywhere, shouting about the injustice of the times. He remembered shooting that scene, had loved and hated every second of it, and at the end of the day, doing it so many times, reaching down into his guts and pulling them out in handfuls… he’d been so wrung out that he’d passed out in his trailer and slept right through his alarm.

He couldn’t see that on the screen now. His exhaustion fed into the character’s exhaustion, passion into passion and-

“Camera,” Teddy warned, and Billy shook off his memories even as the crowd-cam swept past and focused on his face. He put on an easy smile instead, grabbing Teddy’s free hand on the table and squeezing it tight.

The clip was over, and the room was applauding. For him.

It only lasted a second but it was enough to boost him way back up, bring him into the moment. Him; this was for him and he’d earned it and he was _here._

_I need to remember this. If this is the only time I make it this far, I need to remember everything about how this moment feels._

Four more names, four more clips, and Billy’s stomach clenched so tight it could turn his lunch into diamonds. Keep cool, be cool, remember everything Grand-dad had ever taught him about keeping his real feelings buried deep.

“And the winner is…”

Teddy squeezed his hand.

This was it. He had only a split second to prepare himself for his fate. They’d call Leo and then Will would be split-screened on the cry-cam, for his reaction to be broadcast to the entire world. _Biggest audience I’ve ever had_.

She opened the envelope, drawing out the card that would name someone else, someone who really deserved it.

‘Disappointed face’ would turn him into a meme; he was already stuffing it down, getting ready for the fake smile and approving applause that would prove he wasn’t a sore loser.

_I can curse and kick things once I’m home._ Or get blitzed and pass out, sleep for a week and try and forget this onrushing wave of despair, of _not good enough._  

“Will Lehnsherr!”

“Holy shit!” The words burst out of his mouth and the others at his table— _Vere Street_ cast and crew—other tables within earshot, cracked up. He hadn’t heard it right, definitely had _not_ heard his own name get called, not here in this company. Then Rob was hugging him and everyone else was clapping and— Shit. How was he going to get up to the stage without falling over his own feet and flat on his ass?

“Go on,” Teddy urged. “They’re waiting for you.”

He never could remember, later, how he’d gotten up on the stage, or gotten the award in his hands. He came back to himself standing at the microphone, staring out at the room full of his heroes, his idols, the people he’d studied and modeled himself after, dreamed, one day, of becoming.

And they looked back at him, some smiling, some waiting, all listening. To him.

He was supposed to say something.

There was a speech, Emma had put it in his pocket just in case, but he couldn’t get his hand into his pocket without dropping his award on his foot, and he wasn’t going to let it go. Never ever.

That was good; that was a relatable joke. Start there.

“I have a just-in-case speech here somewhere, but that means letting go to check my pockets, and that’s not going to happen for a week at least.” There – that was a laugh, and his audience was with him. Across the room Teddy’s eyes were fixed on him, and his smile was a brilliant beacon. The wave of calm rolled over him. “So I’m doing this entirely from memory, and wine. I promise I’m old enough.” Another laugh, and then he was alright, he was on a roll, he could do this.

He could do this.

“I’d like to thank everyone who believed in me, and in _Vere Street_. Rob, the rest of the cast, our amazing director and crew, my brother Tom for putting up with every time I short-sheeted his bed. My family—mom and Uncle Pete. Kate, next best thing to a sister. And Theo, for being the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He could see the camera feed from the corner of his eyes, zooming in on Teddy and catching his pleased-stunned-adoring reaction, sending his beauty out to the rest of the world. “And now I’ve got two ‘best things in the world’ in this room right now, and an unopened bottle of champagne waiting at my table. G’night, all.” He got another laugh, and applause. He saluted with the award and made it off the stage without falling on his face, everything swirling around him in a blur.

That might have been Leo over there giving him the stink-eye, but oh God. Billy had done it.

_(Now, maybe now, Grand-dad will be proud of me.)_

That thought stung, pricked a hole in the bubble of adrenaline that was flying him along, but by the time he fell back into his seat beside Teddy it had vanished again, and there were literal tears in his eyes.

“Told you so,” Teddy laughed with delight. Billy wanted nothing more than to kiss him, hot, slick and with tongue, tangle his hands in Teddy’s hair and hold him there forever.

But Emma’s warning sounded in his ears, the weight of his previous screw-ups making the dark voices murmur. So all he did was brush his lips against Teddy’s, closed and chaste, and got wolf-whistled at anyway for his troubles.

“I can’t believe it,” Billy confessed, letting his hands fall to grab at Teddy’s lapels, needing something to ground him. “This has to be a dream.”

“Only in the sense that it’s a dream come true.” Teddy glowed, his eyes lights in the darkness, a beacon of everything good and sane in the world. “And now you can relax. We are going to have one hell of a night.”

* * *

Twitter, public post:

**Karolina Dean** (official) @lucyinthesky

All my love to @nottheeviltwin – the best first screen kiss a girl could ask for! Congratulations! #goldenglobes #bestactor #willlehnsherr

 

21,472 retweets 101,032 favourites

 

 

DMs

**Will Lehnsherr** (official) @nottheeviltwin

Your turn next year – I’ll bring the cheerleading squad.

 

**Karolina Dean** (official) @lucyinthesky

Are you on your phone *at the ceremony*? Oh my God, you utter loser. <3

 

**Will Lehnsherr** (official) @nottheeviltwin

Having a hiding-in-the-bathroom freakout moment. It’s all good. Kiss Xav for me and wish me luck surviving the night.

 

**Karolina Dean** (official) @lucyinthesky

Done and done, and hugs back to big T. Call me and we’ll hang out! Love you!!

* * *

From the moment the car had arrived to pick him up, until now when they were back in the car and on their way to an after-party, Teddy’s head had been spinning. Dressing with a stylist bossing him around was nothing new, fussing over his hair and picking invisible lint off of the perfectly-fitted tux that Emma’s intern had dropped off yesterday. And he’d been slowly getting used to running the gauntlet of paparazzi that seemed to be a constant part of Billy’s life. But the red carpet, the carefully timed and chosen posing, the camera flashes and catcalls to get his attention—it was blindly chaotic, and amazing all at the same time.

He felt like a million bucks and Billy looked better than that, radiant in the attention and the spotlight. He _glowed_ , and Teddy – well, Teddy was the one on his arm, and that was something to be proud of, especially since it was actually, really real.

Billy was _his_ , in a way Teddy could never have anticipated back in the fall, in a way he could barely believe now.

Tonight, again, he was starstruck, and even knowing that he was going to end the night naked with Billy _somewhere_ didn’t manage to settle the adrenaline that raced through him at the very thought.

Even now, flopped on the long bench seat in the back of the limo, Billy beside him with his leg hooked over Teddy’s, some quiet part of Teddy kept insisting that this was a dream, one he’d wake up from too soon.

Billy’s exuberance had faded, and he held his trophy in his lap, pensive. The high was probably ebbing now, which meant a crash was coming unless they got to the party soon. The roads were jammed, though, and they were stuck in traffic that was barely moving.

“I shook hands with Harrison Ford,” Teddy said, by way of making conversation and snapping Billy out of whatever funk he was working himself into. “I may never wash this hand again.”

“You have a thing for Han Solo?” Billy shook off his frown and grinned brightly.

“Nah. Indiana Jones, though, there’s a guy who knew how to wear leather.” Teddy teased him back. It was easy, then, to slide his hand into Billy’s hair and kiss him, softly at first. Teddy tasted Billy’s lips with his tongue and Billy opened to him, deep and hot, his mouth slick and his pulse beating like butterfly wings against the side of Teddy’s thumb.

Billy’s phone buzzed from somewhere in his coat pocket and he broke the kiss just long enough to grab it. He flicked open the text and grimaced, not happy, but not quite a frown either. Teddy glanced at the screen, and Billy didn’t turn away.

**Tommy: Congrats, bro. Kate and I are opening some fancy wine in your honor.**

**Tommy: Kate says she stole it from her dad’s cellar, so you know it’ll be good**

**Tommy: Or should I say congrats on selling out? The grade-school kiss was a cute touch. Emma’s idea?**

**Billy: No! I’m just trying not to pull the wrong kind of attention tonight.**

He typed that out defiantly, his fingers flying across the keypad.

**Tommy: You are now officially Corporate Gay. Good boy.**

“Corporate gay?” Teddy frowned at Billy, whose brows had drawn downward and mouth was set in a thoughtful frown. “What does _that_ mean?”

Billy shook his head. “It’s from a conversation we were having yesterday. It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

It obviously wasn’t fine, because while his expression sharpened, the fierce passion that had burned between them only moments ago was briefly dulled.

“I haven’t sold out.” Billy said, his jaw set.

**Billy: Fuck you too**

Teddy, still really not sure what any of this was actually about, could at least answer that one. “If course you haven’t. If you mean the dating contract, that was null and voided that first time we –“ he trailed off. “You know.”

“Damn straight,” Billy replied, shoving a finger down to tap on the armrest. “And if the flyover states can’t cope with anything more threatening to their worldview than a chaste peck on the cheek on the red carpet, that is not my fault. We’re not Will-and-Grace sexless Ken dolls to be turned into mascots. Tommy was right.”

_Oh oh._

Billy was on a tear now, having one half of a conversation that he’d obviously been stewing over. The fact that no-one was feeding him lines, and Teddy didn’t have the faintest idea where any of this had started, didn’t seem to matter.

“There’s no reason on earth to play the neutered, non-threatening, Disney-gay product placement diversity-poster.” Billy’s eyes blazed with determination, and he stared Teddy down with something that looked like hunger in his eyes. “Fuck every last one of them,” Billy announced. “I’m going to do things my way.”

“Meaning what, precisely?” Someone’s horn blared outside, but the muffled sound didn’t make it in to them very clearly.

“Meaning fuck it,” Billy said. “What’s Grand-dad going to do now, fire me?” He hit the button that locked the dark glass partition between them and the driver. In one swift move he had his leg over Teddy’s lap, straddling his knees.

“What are you even doing?” Teddy’s hands came up to grip Billy’s muscled thighs purely reflexively, even as Billy tasted his mouth, his lips sharp with the aftertaste of wine. “Bee, what’s gotten into you?”

“I won a Globe, and now I’m going to make out with my incredibly hot, amazing boyfriend in a limousine driving down Hollywood Boulevard,” Billy announced, his jaw set firm and a wicked, devastating smile spreading on his face. He unbuttoned Teddy’s jacket and slid his hands down Teddy’s stomach.  

“Here and now.” Not that Teddy’s body objected. He’d had a couple of drinks, sure, but he was already flying the flag at half-mast, thanks to the way Billy was kissing him, the rough roll of his body up against Teddy’s, his hands hot through the fine cotton of Teddy’s dress shirt. He smelled so good and tasted better, and Teddy’s head spun with the headiness of it all.

Billy smiled against his mouth. “Where else? We have to do Vanity Fair next, be professional, smile and handshake – I want this, Teddy. I want you here, right now. Before we go back to being photo-friendly pretty boys and our images belong to everyone else again.” His eyes shone, dark like molasses.

Fucking in the limo? There was no way they could get away with that. And yet… other people definitely did. He’d heard stories. Logistics were going to be cramped, and then what if someone opened the door and they were naked? “We’re going to get caught.”

“We might.”

How much, exactly, had Billy had to drink? He hadn’t touched anything until the very end of the ceremony, and even then Teddy could have sworn it had only been a couple of glasses.

Teddy kissed him again and his breath hitched as Billy slipped his hand down between their bodies, cupped Teddy’s dick and stroked up against the wool between them. “Oh, hell.” Teddy was aching and hard against the pressure, and all of his concerns turned to mist and vanished. Turn him over, kiss him everywhere, take Billy right here and now in the cramped leather seats, while the world carried on oblivious right outside-

“Is this for me?” Billy asked, light in his eyes and his voice a silken purr.

“Always,” Teddy murmured as Billy’s hand found him, cupped him and stroked him through the heavy fabric. “Billy, I-” But even as he grabbed for Billy’s ass, needing to sink his fingers in, Billy moved and took his hand away.

Billy slid backward and dropped to the floor between Teddy’s knees. Teddy was achingly hard even before Billy unzipped him, even before he leaned in and took Teddy in his mouth. Teddy arched reflexively, the pleasure hitting him all at once at the base of his spine, Billy’s attentions drawing out everything inside him.

Hot, hot wet and slick, Billy bobbed his head and took Teddy deeper, so deep, encompassing and enveloping him, his tongue pressing up against the underside of Teddy’s cock, circling the head. Everything was sensation, the burn of the alcohol in his blood, the feel of the soft felt lining the car ceiling as Teddy pushed his hands up against it, tried to get purchase, stop himself from sinking his hands into Billy’s hair and thrusting up and in.

He wanted, wanted more and this was so good, so perfect, Billy on his knees between Teddy’s legs, his fingers digging into Teddy’s thigh, still dressed and Billy had to be dying because he was unzipped now and rubbing off against his own palm, his breath coming in fast pants around Teddy’s cock.

“Please, please, Billy, God-” Teddy groaned, and he meant both ‘please, don’t ever stop’ and ‘please I need to come’ all at the same time together.

Billy wrapped his hand around the base of Teddy’s dick, pushing back the fabric of his pants and underwear. Billy stroked him hard, his mouth still so hot and needy at the tip.

“Shit,” Teddy groaned, and once again he was taking, taking and not giving, but damn him to hell, he couldn’t find the words he needed. All that came out was panting and low groans, noises that had to be coming from him. “Gonna come.” It was too fast, the champagne in his system making him so loose and easy.

Who was he kidding? He was always easy for Billy, for the way his hand stroked and held him, for the play of his tongue around Teddy’s cock and his balls, the heat and desperation of his mouth.

“Same,” Billy gasped out, and Teddy hadn’t even had the chance to touch him, Billy’s hand working his own cock fast and hard. “I love this, Teddy. You feel so good, I want to give you this all the time.”

He went down deep, nose to pubes, and swallowed around Teddy’s cock. Teddy kept his eyes open, forced them open—he had to watch as he came, buried so deep in Billy’s mouth that he could feel the back of Billy’s throat. He came, fire and lightning in his spine, and Billy swallowed him down, his lips obscenely red and swollen, his eyes glazed. It was only a second later, Teddy’s ears still ringing and his body shaking, when Billy muffled a cry against Teddy’s thigh and came over his own hand.

Which was the moment the limo pulled around a corner and stopped.

“We’re here. Quick, before we get caught.” Teddy grabbed for the box of tissues that someone had left beside the wine bucket in the back of the car, cleaned up as best he could while Billy did the same.

Moments later, zipped and tucked and at least all of the come wiped away, Teddy’s heart was racing a mile a minute. Billy leaned in, arms on Teddy’s thighs. His pupils were blown wide, his mouth full and red, so utterly debauched that Teddy had to fight the instant impulse to lay him flat and pound into him, just, take him apart again right there until they were both exhausted a second time around.

“You live dangerously,” Teddy laughed, giddy and reckless. He grabbed Billy’s chin and tugged him up for a kiss, tasting himself in Billy’s mouth. And yet he didn’t stand up, or join Teddy on the seat like he was supposed to. “Come on, Bee. We’ve only got seconds here.”

Billy’s fuck-me lips curled up into another wicked grin, and he still didn’t move. “Want to make a real statement? Let’s fuck this up.”

Teddy should be more worried, he should be thinking about David’s warnings and his mother’s inevitable reaction, about outing themselves to their management, about future career choices and pr spin and a thousand other juggling balls that seemed so important to keep in the air, all the time.

Here, now, with Billy on fire for him and his own blood burning, with voices outside the car coming closer, honest to God, he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of it.

_What the hell. Hugh Grant still gets work._

“How many news cycles are we talking about?” he asked, and from Billy’s answering grin, he knew Billy understood.

“Let’s go for four.”

Still between his knees, Billy set the palm of his hand against Teddy’s crotch, palming his dick through the fancy wool of his tux, grazed his teeth against the inside of Teddy’s thigh. He was sex and fire, and Teddy had to bite his lip to stop himself from caving, from grabbing Billy right there and kissing the hell out of him again. Or maybe shaking him, because this was going to end in glorious disaster.

_Life with you is one hell of a ride._

Teddy sprawled back in the seat like he hadn’t a care in the world, cupped Billy’s jaw in his hand.

The car door opened.

* * *

[Transcript: video footage from E-Now correspondent, Globes After-Party assignment.]

[Camera pans across a busy street, the Sunset Tower Hotel prominent in the foreground. Correspondent Kat Farrell in the foreground, speaking to the camera.]

“The cars have been pulling up here for about fifteen minutes now, and the stars look fresh and ready to party until dawn.”

[There’s a brief lull in the traffic, broken by a limo pulling around the corner, to park on the side street.]

“Those who won are celebrating their victories, and the losers, well. They’re coming to drown their sorrows while bumping elbows with the rest of the young and beautiful. Vanity Fair is known for their Oscars post-parties, and this one may get us a glimpse of what that big night is going to look like.”

[In the background, Emma Frost and a small entourage head toward the parked car.]

“The older set are heading for the MGM and Warner’s parties, for the most part — Scorsese is a huge draw. But it’s the younger crowd, Hollywood’s new Brat Pack, who will be in attendance here tonight.”

[The car door is opened, the camera man zooms over the correspondent’s shoulder and catches the interior of the vehicle. Will Lehnsherr is on his knees on the floor of the car between Theo Altman’s legs. He begins to stand. Both men are fully clothed, but look disheveled.]

[Emma Frost can be clearly heard in the background, exclaiming “WILLIAM LEHNSHERR.” He emerges from the car looking unabashed, while passers-by take pictures with cell phones.]

Farrell, muffled: “What’s happening? Did you see that? We have to get this.”

[Farrell turns, and heads in that direction. Camera man follows, video bouncing as the camera is carried at a fast jog.]

Farrell stops, tries to get a microphone in front of Will, but is evaded.

“Will, were you just caught with your pants down? Any comment?”

Will ignores the question and continues to move toward the hotel door.

Emma Frost glares at the camera and the camera man seems to take a step backward. “No comment,” she says, “and turn that off.”

Will has a satisfied smile on his face. Theo Altman follows, holding his hand tightly, grinning and trying to push the ruffled hair out of his eyes.

“Theo! Theo, any comment?”

[Theo turns when he hears his name. His eyes are bright, and he seems slightly dazed. He grins, and flashes a V-for-victory sign at the camera.]

“Wildest fucking night of my _life._ ”

Frost’s entourage closes in around the pair and cuts off camera view. All enter the hotel. One or two passers-by in the street can be seen texting excitedly. Camera jolts slightly, camera man turns. A security officer is seen in close-up, then the image cuts to black. 

[Note to editor: bleep profanity in last line, also check before airing to ensure that there is no actual nudity in the first long shot of the car. The last thing we need is people writing in to complain about un-blurred dick shots.]

* * *

**CAUGHT!**

What a night for former child star Will Lehnsherr! Not only did the newly-minted Hollywood leading man beat Leo out for the Best Actor Golden Globe, but he scored himself one hell of a celebration afterwards. It seems that Will and his date, actor/model Theo Altman, couldn’t wait until after the after-parties to start gettin’ jiggy with it. Too bad they didn’t lock the limo doors. Busted!

Photos from passers-by and one unbelievably lucky paparazzo hit all the gossip blogs simultaneously, though both management teams are furiously denying that there was any public hanky-panky involved.

We’ve seen the photos, y’all. Their pants may still be on, but that’s not the way a guy sits when he’s lost a contact lens. Maybe it’s time to rethink the open bar at the Globes?

* * *

**Katiekate**                    FOLLOW

[Kate is taking a selfie in her perfectly decorated living room. She’s lounging in a silk robe, the television is on in the background, tuned to the Golden Globes broadcast. Tommy can be seen behind her in a wifebeater and jeans, his hair still dark brown, muscles flexing as he pulls the cork on a bottle of wine. A black cat is curled up on the couch beside Kate.]

450k likes

**Katiekate** : Having our own celebration – happy Globes night! #sometimesprivateisbest #wineandchocolatefortwo

_view all 616 comments_

 

**free_wave:** OMG Tom is so hot

**WatchMeNeNe** : I love your life; I want that robe. What’s the designer?

**MissKitty:** @WatchMeNeNe It’s a Minoru original – she tagged it last time.

**WatchMeNeNe** : Oh shit oh shit check the blogs right now

**WatchMeNeNe** : seriously, it’s up on TMZ. Will and his bf were having sex in the car and got caught.

**BB-hate-r** : ohhhhh shit; thats’ gonna leave a stain on the upholstery! 

**MissKitty:** Kate, what about Will and Theo tonight? Did they really bang in the limo?

**Ferb:** wtf? U can’t ask a girl about her brother-in-law’s sexytimesz

**BearWitness:** Repent and be saved! Sodomy is the harbinger of the beast and all with the marks shall be cast into the depths of hell!

**Ferb** : Kiss my sodomite ass.

**Will4Pres2020:** OMG I can’t. Theo and Will are just the sexiest things ever and if I can’t meet them one day I’m going to legit CRY FOREVER. (sorry Tom, but Theo is hotter and he gets to kiss Will b/c that makeout in Vere TSreet was the hottest thing. I played the youtube video back maybe a lot, and I just want to meet them SO BAD.

**Will4Pres2020:**  (~*~tee hee~*~)

**Ferb:** u all need seriuus help.

* * *

****

 

**Tom Lehnsherr (official) @theeviltwin**

Oh, baby, what a night… huge congrats to @nottheeviltwin for Best Actor. Only ‘cause I wasn’t in the running, of course. #gobro #goldenglobes

265 retweets 8,704 favourites

 

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

How much do you think a marketing dept would charge someone to get their own twitter account back? Hypothetically speaking. #notme #no

26 retweets 704 favourites

 

 

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

Never said ‘gobro’ with a straight face in my entire life #subtweet

6 retweets 2,006 favourites

 

 

 

**MarvelBoy @spaceman_spiff**

[.@djtommymax](mailto:.@djtommymax) – seen this yet?

[photo attachment, a picture that appears to be from a camera phone. Billy and Teddy emerging from the limo hand in hand. Teddy’s shirt is partly untucked and they look generally  debauched.]

67 retweets 3,265 favourites

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

Congratulate @somecallmetheo, the real hero of Globes night. #limobanging #becausewhowouldn’t

30,780 retweets 159,127 favourites

* * *

**Billy:  why are people tweeting the hashtag ‘limobanging’ at me?**

**Tommy: How could I *possibly* know a thing like that?**

**Billy: I would plan your murder, but I’m honestly having too much fun right now.**

* * *

**Samurai_Max (posted 7 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

I can’t believe you guys are taking any of this seriously. They’re _actors_ , for f**** sake! It’s all just one big attention-getting stunt. They knew someone was set up to take pictures when they got out, and their PR teams cued the whole thing.

 

**Delirium (posted 7 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

What’s your proof? All I see is a couple of guys caught making out.

 

**Samurai_Max (posted 6 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

If you zoom in on the picture and you can see that Altman’s pants are still completely zipped up. Lehnsherr’s hand is in the wrong position, too. He’s turned his arm so that the photographer can get a clear shot. FAKE.

 

**Lizzie Borden’s Axe (posted 6 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

They are taking the bearding contract to a whole new level.

… is it still called ‘bearding’ if it’s straight guys pretending to be gay?

 

**BouncyBottom (posted 6 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

Are you f****** kidding me? Lehnsherr has the worst case of dick-lips I’ve seen since Saturday night. That, my honeys, is the look of a man who has just sucked cock and enjoyed the hell out of it.

 

**Trillian (posted 6 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

I tried sitting like that with my boyfriend and it’s doable. Doesn’t look staged to me.

**Samurai_Max (posted 6 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

Doable isn’t the question – it’s whether it’s natural, or posed. I can’t say for sure if they’re gay or not, but I can tell you, that photograph is a staged shot. They’re thirsty as hell.

 

**Delirium (posted 5 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

Dude, zoom in. Check this screencap out – upper right hand corner, there are tissues in that little garbage can. They totally just fucked.

 

**BouncyBottom (posted 5 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

Ooh, honey, I hope they had some lube on board. That’s gotta stiiiiing.

**Tin Foil Soldier For Truth (posted 5 hours ago. Report post | flag) :**

That’s not even Will Lehnsherr. The real William Lehnsherr died while filming Vere Street, and was replaced by a clone. Check out [www.celebritycloneconspiracy.com](http://www.celebritycloneconspiracy.com) for more.

* * *

_As you fine folks all know, I am not Lehnsherr’s biggest fan. I’d go so far as to say I’m one of his biggest non-fans. But I’m a big man, and I can admit when I was wrong._

_I still think the guy is a conniving, media-playing little twerp, but considering his stunt at the Globes- you all heard about this, right? How he got caught giving his man-date a blowie in the back seat of their limo? He is either actually gay – in which case, sorry dude – or he is willing to do some reallllly gay shit in order to keep a fiction going. Which, sadly, makes him kind of hardcore committed. You have to appreciate that level of work ethic._

_Here’s my shoutout, Will, straight from me to you. Your PR team are idiots and your acting is strictly junior-league, but I have to give you props. You’re either more honest than I gave you credit for, or you have balls bigger than my grandmother’s bowling set. Enjoy your award._

* * *

“Unbelievable. Utterly and unequivocally one of the stupidest things I have ever seen you do, and that is including _quite_ a lot.” Emma paced —she actually _paced_ — across the floor in her office, her sky-high white heels not making a sound on the incredibly expensive carpet covering the floor. Billy didn’t dare glance at Tommy.

They sat quietly instead, in the hard chairs that had been waiting for them, and at least he was feeling like he’d been called in to the principal’s office. Or like he should be standing at attention, hands behind his back, facing down an angry drill sergeant. Any second now, she was going to turn red in the face, and-

 “What in God’s name has gotten into you? And don’t think you’re not involved in this, Thomas. How you imagined you could get away with switching places on me now, when you’re supposed to be mature adults, is completely beyond me. Of all of the stunts to pull! The only reason I’m not hanging you up by your toenails right now is because your brother is actively trying to destroy his career, and we need to address that first.”

Emma stopped right beside her desk and stabbed at it with one long, perfectly manicured fingernail. The click –tap was even more deafening than the verbal-chewing out, for all that it signaled the end of the shouting. And the beginning of a moment of silence that had Billy squirming in his chair.

Tommy didn’t seem to be feeling it, or he was too detached by now to care, because he didn’t squirm at all. “Whatever happened to ‘no publicity is bad publicity’?” he drawled loosely.

Emma lifted her lip in something between a sneer and a snarl. “Publicity is what _I_ do. You two infants are supposed to be performers, not come within a hair’s breadth of being arrested for public lewdness!”

The indignity of it all shot through Billy like a lightning bolt; not for himself, maybe, but for Teddy.

No, for himself too, because he _had_ been putting up with this bullshit since he was a little kid, talked down to, passed around, shuffled from gig to gig, patted on the head – be a good boy and let the _grownups_ handle things. Fuck that.

“It wasn’t public while it was lewd,” Billy pointed out, “and it wasn’t lewd by the time you opened the door and made it public.”

Tommy’s head jerked around and he gave Billy a flash of a proud smile before he made it vanish again.

Emma sputtered, but only for a second, and then the mask was back. The only thing betraying her momentary loss of control were the flames of hell currently burning in her eyes. And behind that, a calculating, piercing look like a collector examining a new specimen of bug dying on a pin in front of her. “Why I ever expected Theodore to be a good check on your immature behavior, I cannot _begin_ to imagine.”

“You set me up with him!” Billy objected, caught off guard just when he thought he was about to gain the upper hand for once.

“For _work_ , not to become a permanent part of your life.” Emma leaned back against her desk crossing her arms in front of her. “He’s a body builder with pretensions, and obviously a terrible influence on your work ethic. You haven’t even bothered to open the last three of Wendy’s emails.”

He began to object, because he had, hadn’t he? And the ones he ignored were the strategy-session minutes, and he didn’t need to see that to know how Emma was positioning his media right now. The things she’d said about Teddy burned, rankling deep within his gut.

“And don’t say you have, because I know better.” She tapped her phone, sitting on her desk in its white and silver case. “Read receipts, William. You need to focus on the reason you’re here.”

She was baiting him, trying to get a rise out of him so that she could put him back in his place—knock him off his guard in any way she could, and then tear him back down into tiny pieces.

Tommy snorted before Billy could retort. “What’s that, making money for the Firm hand over fist?”

“Like we haven’t done enough of that already.” Billy followed hot on his brother’s heels. “You wanted me to be in the news, we got that done. You wanted me to parade a relationship around in front of the cameras to prove something I never _cared_ about proving? I did that too. Hell, no-one in the tabloids is saying anything about the fake-gay rumors anymore, so we won that one pretty damn clearly too, don’t you think?”

“What you _made_ , William, was a _mess._ ” Emma looked about to roll up her sleeves —metaphorically speaking— and start throwing punches, but then something stopped her. She straightened her back, held her head still, and pinned him with another one of those unsettling looks. Like she knew a lot of things that he didn’t, and didn’t intend to share.

“Erik and I made you boys into what you are,” she said instead, her voice a serpent, silken-smooth. “And I can take you down just as easily. Remember that, William, when you start thinking again about throwing all of your achievements away.

“Freeze Factor is still in very early pre-production, and the casting announcement hasn’t been made yet. Don’t think for a moment that we can’t sink the project. I have a dozen different ways of making sure that movie never shoots.”

“You’d torpedo me just out of spite?” his voice sounded incredulous, and Emma smiled. He’d given her the reaction she’d been looking for, dammit, and now she was going to zero right in on his weakness.

“Out of efficiency. I don’t need to break my neck watching out for you if you keep on trying to sabotage yourself.” Emma said calmly. “Brandon Sharpe’s mother is a nightmare, but she’s been dying to get her son onto our roster for years. He’s exactly the same casting type, and he’s a bright young man. He knows how to do what he’s told. I’m sure he could go far.”

The world tilted sideways, and that basic surety he’d had, the things he’d said to Teddy in the limo — _what are they going to do, fire me?—_ hit him in the gut like the sucker punch Emma had never actively thrown. “You’re joking.”

He’d never been that scared before, had always known that no matter what, somehow, there was a safety net there. He was Erik Lehnsherr’s _grandson_ , had been reminded of that every day of his life, and that was the one thing he could bank on.

Now, all at once, that certainty was gone, and he was flailing.

_Maybe I am as spoiled and entitled as Kesler says I am._

Emma arched an eyebrow, and he knew he had lost. “I don’t joke. And it’s time to grow up. Smarten up, or step aside.” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Big Drama isn't nearly as bad as being nibbled to death by ducks. It's the little things that can grind you down the worst.

“You’re killing me with this shit, Teddy.”

David slumped in his chair and sank his head into his hands. The residual layer of guilt simmering low in Teddy since he’d sobered up flared into full life.

Maybe not _quite_ since he’d sobered up. He’d woken up in Billy’s bed, after all, and even though they were both ridiculously hung over — champagne was the _devil_ — he’d felt pretty good.

Until he’d looked at his phone to see two missed calls from Eli, _three_ from David, and a text from his mother containing a full string of question marks. And he’d left the condo for his walk of shame, thanking fate and laziness that he’d left some clothes over there last time… only to run full-face into a couple of really damned persistent photographers who had to have been waiting there all night.

_Theo, how are you feeling this morning?_

_Theo, do you regret last night? Embarrassed?_

_Hey Theo, look over here- are you afraid Will’s just using you? Any truth to the rumor that he’s sleeping with Nick Jonas?_

(Even Teddy hadn’t been able to control his reaction to that last one. The online tabs were already running his ‘Are You ******* Kidding Me’ reply as a headline over the photo of his incredulous expression. It wasn’t his best look.)

And now back home, he was sitting in his own damned living room, in the apartment he was renting in _Hollywood_ , because some people actually considered him a big deal and hired him for things, and he felt about an inch high.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, and raked his hands through his hair. He’d at least had a chance to shower, but what he really needed was about a gallon of Gatorade and another six hours of sleep. “We didn’t plan that, I didn’t think…” he trailed off. “Yeah. Let’s leave it at that. I didn’t think. I just got caught up in the moment, you know?”

David winced, and Teddy looked at the floor. “There’s something about Will,” he confessed. “He’s not like the way he seems in the press, or even on set. He’s impulsive, and ridiculous, and there’s something about him that makes everything he suggests seem so… _reasonable_ in the moment.”

“And then it all blows up spectacularly?” David dropped his hands from his face and rested his elbows on his knees, frowning at Teddy. “Talk to me, Teddy. I feel like we haven’t had a real conversation since this insanity started.”

Teddy looked at the man who was, quite literally, his oldest friend in the state, and the knife twisted itself deeper in his gut. David had done some dumb things, yeah, but he’d had Teddy’s back since day one.

_Do I tell him that I know about the block on my phone? No – why dig that up now? We have a phone that he can’t get at, and what would be the point? He knows everything now._

Well, not everything. But certainly enough.

“I’m nervous,” Teddy confessed, and putting it into words made it that much more real. “Everything seems to be happening a lot faster than I’d bargained for. But it’s exciting, too.”

He leaned forward in a mirror of David’s pose, his elbows on his knees. “I can taste it we’re so close, David. I’m getting auditions now. Better yet, I’m getting _parts._ Modeling did really well for me, I can’t deny that, but this – this is what I studied to do, what I wanted to do all along.”

That his current role was part of an ensemble cast in an indie film that didn’t even have a distributor didn’t matter. Cannes-or-bust, right? He was working, and he had friends, and he had a boyfriend who loved him.

_Well, maybe. That’s a word no-one’s really said yet._

He did, didn’t he? Billy might not have said the words, but they had been implicit for a while. He could read between the lines.

Except David was shaking his head, and looking discouraged. 

“Keep your eye on the prize, Teddy.”

Teddy looked — really looked — and saw the bags under his eyes, the darker circles against his brown skin. Had he slept? Teddy had gone from party to party, then slept like the dead in a million-dollar condo, and David had been doing what? Cleaning up after him. How many so-called journalists had called to try and get a statement? How many producers had already given David shit for not keeping Teddy under better control?

Billy had wanted to stick it to Emma, and Teddy had let David be caught in the crossfire.

“… I know.” Teddy hung his head so he didn’t have to look David in the eye. “And I’m sorry. Not about being with Will – obviously you know, now. But about keeping you out of the loop. Everything else has been upside down and backwards.”

David sucked in air with a soft hiss. “So it wasn’t just another stunt.” Teddy was usually pretty good at reading people, but he couldn’t figure out what David’s expression meant this time. Not in the slightest.

“No,” Teddy started to object, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. _Time to lay the cards on the table._ He sat straight for this, because this part was something he _wasn’t_ ashamed of. “Well, yes. Sort of. He wanted to mess with Emma, so the car thing was staged. But we really are together.”

_We really got it on in the limo, too, and Billy’s mouth is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever felt. But I’m not telling you that._

“And I like him, David. I like him a lot. There’s so much more to him than you realize.”

David muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘I damn well hope so.’ He kept it under his breath, though, and Teddy chose to ignore it rather than start a fight. It wasn’t like he wanted to find a new agent, especially right now, when things were so in flux and he was on the top of the gossip sites’ hit lists-

_Oh. That’s exactly what he means._

“I need you to think hard about this, Teddy,” David’s jaw was set and he looked resolved, figured out what he was going to say and do next. That had always been a good look on him before—one that meant he’d cracked a new door open, gotten a toe somewhere he hadn’t thought he could, that he was fighting for Teddy in every way that mattered. To both of them. “Think about what really matters, and what you really want. This is a make-or-break year, and while you’ve been off fucking around-”

“Hey!”

“What else would you call it?” He wasn’t even angry with Teddy, just professional and cool. Detached.

Something was missing that had been there between them all along: the easy relaxed camaraderie, an all-in-this-together kind of sense that Teddy only really noticed now that it was gone.

_Remember that he broke in to your phone. He deleted Billy’s messages. He blocked Billy’s number._

_And I cut him out, kept information from him that I should have shared. I didn’t trust him when I should have. We’re both responsible for this mess._

“While you’ve been distracted,” David amended, “I’ve been trying to keep your career going. The whole reason you’re out here, remember? And I have to be honest, Ted. You’re losing gigs. And this won’t help.”

That hit Teddy square between the eyes, and he caught himself reeling. “What are you talking about?” he asked, furrowing his brow, trying to think back to the auditions he’d been on—what could David be talking about? What fires had he been putting out that Teddy had been totally unaware of? “I’ve been working steadily.”

“The jobs we booked in the fall are fine.” David’s voice softened, and that was when Teddy really knew. He was in trouble now. “But end of November through December? Less so. Something has been stalling out when your name comes up, and this latest stunt isn’t going to make anyone speed up their decisions. At least not in your favor.”

Teddy sat with that knowledge for a moment, the reality of it starting to turn into guilt, solid and heavy in his throat. He didn’t care hugely about some of the auditions—he’d done a handful just for practice, once Billy had made him a known quantity. It had been quantity over quality, David had insisted, make sure as many casting directors as possible saw his face.

There was one that he cared a lot about. The audition had been during the week while Billy was on his press junket, so he’d had the free time to really prepare, work the script, dig in to the character. And he’d nailed it. He’d felt the energy in that room, seen the looks in their eyes across that wide wooden table. Teddy had half-expected them to call back within days, or hours—it had been that damn good. And it would be his break. If he got this one, the rest of the world would be waiting.

And now it had been two weeks, with nothing. And in the grand scheme of things, as far as callbacks went, that was completely normal. Wasn’t it?

So he swallowed his pride, and met David’s grim eyes. “Banshee Squadron?”

David shook his head. “Nothing.”

Teddy’s heart sank down into his shoes.

“On the plus side, I haven’t heard that they’ve approached anyone else. But they’re taking too long, so they may be waiting for another option. I have no idea what this—” he waved vaguely in the direction of his tablet, lying on the coffee table in front of them, TMZ open on the screen “—is going to do for your chances.”

If he’d fucked this up, oh God- Teddy shook his head in one last burst of indignation and denial. “No-one has morals clauses anymore, though. That’s old Hollywood.” _Isn’t it?_ “They can’t not-hire me because I’m gay.”

“They can choose not to hire anyone, for any reason. If casting was actually based on talent, with no other considerations? Leads wouldn’t be ninety-percent good looking white guys.” David held his gaze steady.

“The reality is this — it’s maybe ten percent talent, another twenty percent about fitting the look the director and producers have in mind. Some of it is name power. And the rest is all backroom politics. Who owes who a favor. Who the lead wants to hang out with on set. Who broke up with whose best friend recently. Which guy at the audition will be easy to work with and not give the marketing department migraines.” And that last qualification earned Teddy a very pointed look. 

Much more subdued, and with his mind spinning, Teddy frowned. “And I’m heading into migraine territory.”

David sat down on the other end of the couch, and looked at him seriously. “Will can get away with some hits to his reputation. He’s got a major machine behind him, and they’re well-practiced at picking up the pieces. And even if he has to go do a west end show or something for a year to beef up his ‘serious actor’ credentials before coming back to movies, he can do that. You’ve got credibility with photographers and designers, and I don’t need to tell you that your look is exactly what most blockbuster directors want. But when it comes to the film world, you’re still the new guy. You’re still expendable.”

Teddy rubbed his eyes and willed his headache away. It was getting steadily worse instead. David got up, headed for Teddy’s tiny kitchen, and Teddy heard the water running. There was a long pause, but eventually the tap turned off and David came back with a couple of aspirin and a glass. It was cool in his hands when he took it, and Teddy swallowed the aspirin dry, pressing the glass against his forehead to soothe his brain.

“Look,” David began, elbows back on his knees. “I can’t tell you not to date him, especially now. But be careful. There’s a big dark side to this town, and you’re more vulnerable now than ever. I don’t want to see you hurt.” That last statement sounded almost wistful, somehow, before David stopped talking.  

Teddy nodded, the water sloshing in the glass as he moved his head gingerly. “So what’s the strategy?”

The sigh of relief from the other end of the couch should have been annoying, but right now it just meant that David wasn’t giving up on him. Not yet. That was comforting, in a moment when he really needed something to hang on to.

“Stay out of trouble. Focus on work. Guys with a spotless work ethic can get away with a lot more than ones who show up late, still on-book, or cause problems on set. Between Sylvie and Will you’re starting to get a reputation.”

“I didn’t kiss Sylvie! She assaulted me!”

“No-one cares. The narrative right now is skewing toward ‘careless party boy,’ so we’re going to haul it back toward ‘serious and talented guy who made a couple of rookie mistakes.’ And that starts with keeping your nose as clean as possible.”

 _Ouch._ It hurt to hear, hurt more to think about what Mom had to be thinking, what kind of comments she would be getting at work, in the neighborhood, at the gym... Teddy pressed his lips together, and nodded. “No more making out in public.”

David snorted. “To say the least. Same goes for drinking. You’ve been wasted more in the last two months than the last two years combined. Smoking-”

“I don’t smoke anything.” Teddy opened his eyes and frowned at David, but David’s expression now was nothing but naked relief.

“Don’t start.”

Teddy twitched an eyebrow up, because the aspirin was starting to kick in, and they had a plan. Well, no. _David_ had a plan that was going to save both their butts, and all Teddy had to do was go along with it. So everything was going to be okay, right? “What about a bubble pipe?” he tried a joke, mostly to see if they were back in that place where they had once been, where he’d really felt like they were on the same team.

“Pipes are mature and respectable,” Teddy added.

Teddy kept his face straight and David’s lip twitched tellingly.

“So are sweater vests and horn-rimmed glasses, but I’m banning you from those as well.”

Teddy chuckled and David smiled wanly. And it wasn’t quite back to what it used to be, but it was a start.

* * *

_Smarten up or step aside._

Billy should have had a thicker skin by now, considering the past thirteen years of his life. He knew to stay away from fanblogs and tabloid gossip pages, from review pages where everything from his eyebrows to his shoe choice would be shredded to pieces. None of that really mattered because it was all aimed at Will, at the fake-him that did the pap walks and the press calls, and smiled so charmingly for talk show hosts and casting agents.

Emma’s blow had been low, aimed at the gut, and meant entirely for Billy.

Whoever that guy was.

He stared at himself in the mirrored wall, the apartment complex’s gym mostly, blessedly, empty this time of day. Another pull-up, the dark streak of his reflection blurring as sweat dripped into his eye. Burning in his arms, his stomach tight, the strain was almost enough to keep his mind off of anything else.

If he did enough of these maybe he’d find the point at which he could shut the thoughts off completely. They nibbled around the edges when he was tired, sounding like John Kesler, like Emma, like the explanations his father would give for not wanting to know him, if Billy ever tried to find him and ask.

_Not today, assholes._

His chin touched the bar and Billy lowered himself down again, resisting the urge to give up and let gravity take him instead. _Not today._

“You planning to stay up there all afternoon?” Nate’s reflection stared up at him from the mirror, his arms folded and his brow furrowed.

There was no reason for him to be worried about Billy; this was just another gym session. They were working on turning him into _secret agent_ this time, tough without being overly sculpted, or whatever the hell the casting call sheet had described. He wasn’t built like Teddy—he was never going to be able to get superhero-huge, no matter how many pounds of anything he tried to haul over his head.

Billy pulled himself up again, the muscle fibers in his arms screaming at the movement, begging him to let go and drop.

One more, just one more—then maybe he could look at himself in the mirror again without seeing all the places he could never measure up.

“Aren’t,” he huffed, his face hot and breath hard to get.

_Fuck this._

He dropped without letting go of the bar, dangling from his outstretched arms for a moment before letting himself fall the last couple of inches to the mat on the floor. Everything from his spine to his fingertips hated him, and he took a second to swipe the sweat and damp hair out of his eyes before trying to speak again. “Aren’t you going to tell me to keep going?”

“Not when you’re so red in the face I’m worrying about cardiac arrest.” Nate handed him his water bottle and Billy popped it open. That excuse was total bull; Nate had shouted at him to ‘keep pushing’ plenty of times when Billy had been on the very verge of what felt like death.

Still, the cool water tasted amazing, and he squirted enough of it into his hands that he could splash it on his face. “I’m good,” he lied firmly. “What’s next?”

Nate stared at him, that furrow in his brow not going away, and Billy held his gaze steady. A beat, then Nate seemed to give up trying to read his mind. “Leg press,” he nodded toward the vaguely escape-pod like contraption in the other corner of the gym. “What’s with you these days?” he asked as he set the weights, Billy settling in to the angled seat.

“What are you talking about?”

“You.” Nate wasn’t looking at him, making his adjustments and checking his notes, or Billy’s training program, or whatever the hell he had pulled up on his phone right then. “You’re so on edge today you’re making _my_ teeth grind, and usually I have to threaten your life to get you to do more than two sets on the bar. Something’s eating at you.”

“I thought you were my trainer, not my therapist,” Billy grumbled, then immediately felt guilty for it. He slid down in the machine, his feet propped up against the footrests and his wet back sticking to the vinyl. “Sorry. Emma’s been on my case, and Saturday didn’t help.”     

“You’re set. Do twenty, whenever you’re ready. Keep it slow.” Billy pushed himself back up into something approximating the right form, and Nate prodded him until he fixed his posture. “She doesn’t usually get you this off-center.”

Billy closed his eyes and breathed out, his pulse still thumping heavy in his throat. Push, pause, slow release. The weight against his feet was solid and comforting, a resistance he could feel, that soothed some of the raw and bleeding edges and slid the world a little more into true. What had he promised Teddy he’d do? _Get in touch with my emotions like an actual human being?_

Good fucking luck.

“I feel-” he tried, hunting for the words. “Like I’m losing my grip,” Billy finally confessed. It was easier to talk without opening his eyes again, without looking. More like a confessional probably felt. “And the more I try and find solid ground, the more shit seems to go sideways. I can’t stay focused.”

There was no reason to share Emma’s threat, however sympathetic Nate was to Billy’s foul mood. Even Tommy knowing was bad enough. “I have to remember how to keep my eye on the goal,” Billy said, half under his breath. It was almost a mantra, and he could hear his grandfather in his voice when he said it.

“Ten. Keep going. What’s the goal this time?”

Billy groaned, the push getting harder as his legs started to feel the strain. He opened his eyes and stared at the black fabric covering his knees as they got closer to his face, then further away again. “I know what Emma and Grand-dad’s goal for me is. ‘An Oscar. More than one, preferably,’” he quoted Emma, imitating her cadence enough so that Nate would catch it. He seemed to, or at least he smiled. That encouragement helped.

“… And I’m closer this year than I’ve ever been,” Billy added, and he had to focus on that, if nothing else. Nominations would be out soon and either he could throw everything in the air and say ‘fuck it, I’m done with this campaign bullshit,’ or he’d be losing his mind for another few weeks until the show. “I can do this.”

He pushed harder against the machine, forcing the weight up. Too fast, Nate’s hand on his knees a warning.

“But you can’t control anything at this stage,” Nate reminded him, all logic. “Campaigns are cute and all, but it’s not Emma’s narrative to write anymore. Or yours. You _did_ what you had to do when you were filming.”

That wasn’t entirely the case; shitty movies got awards when the right people and the right circumstances aligned.

_Would it mean anything at all if I got it only because of the PR push? What happened to being celebrated because I can actually do the thing I’m supposed to be good at?_

If the award could be bought, Grand-dad would probably have already tried.

Billy shook off his spiraling thoughts. “… And what if that’s not enough?”

And weirdly, unexpectedly, Nate shrugged. Like the possibility that Billy had _already_ failed without realizing it wasn’t gut-gnawingly awful. “What if it isn’t? You’re twenty-two, Billy. It’s not like you’re all washed up if you don’t win the top prize _right now_.”

If he didn’t get nominated this year—the year all the stars had aligned in the right order—then what did it say for his future chances? It had been the perfect script, the perfect role; the subject and style were hot, there’d even been more than one award-bait scene built right in to the screenplay. This year should have been—should be!—a slam-dunk, and the Globes had felt like proof. 

“Tell that to my grandfather,” was all Billy said.

Nate’s mouth flattened in disapproval. “Fine. So imagine you do win the Oscar. Then what? Is Erik going to keep moving the goal-posts to keep you scrambling, or will he actually let you make calls of your own?”

Imagine it—and Billy couldn’t. He’d watched the awards shows as a kid and imagined himself into the screen: posing on the red carpet, fans and photographers calling his name, being the center of the universe for a moment. Being wanted. The fantasies had never gone further than that, beyond the moment with the trophy in his hand. He’d gone off-script after the Globes and now he was going to pay for it. Beyond ‘doing what Emma tells me,’ what were any of his other options?

He was tired, tired and sad, and the burn setting in to his legs gave him a line to find his way back inside his own body. That was fine. Something tangible to focus on and try and pull himself through the brain-fog.

“Can we not?” Billy asked. “I don’t want to think about this right now. Add another five pounds on the next set, will you?”

Nate watched him press the weights up as the sweat started to bead on Billy’s forehead again, his tank top soaked and sticking to his chest. “You’ve done a lot more than usual today already. Keep pushing it this hard and you’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Good.”

_At least that will be a feeling I understand._

* * *

It wasn’t like Teddy needed to add any more bad habits to his basic list, but the café near Billy and Tommy’s place _was_ on the way to the gym. That and their neighborhood – unlike his – was so blasé about the idea of actors on their stomping grounds that no-one even blinked when he wandered in. 

(And in what world was he actively concerned about too many people recognizing him, when four months ago he still got that thrill inside when someone claimed to be a fan?)

But four months ago he’d been recognized for getting mostly naked on billboards. And things had changed since then, in ways he’d never quite dared to imagine.

So on days when he had an early call, it made a lot more sense to stop in the café to grab a to-go cup rather than rely on the horrible mockery that was craft services coffee once he got to the set. And on days when he wasn’t in quite such a rush, he could sit in the back corner where the window looked out into a little herb garden and pet the café cat, a rumbling orange beast that looked like a throw pillow until you tried to sit on him.

And that routine was probably how the guy knew where to find him, the slickly polished forty-something sliding into the chair opposite Teddy and the cat without so much as a ‘mind if I join you.’

Ginger lifted his lip and gave a distinctly unimpressed sniff before stalking to the end of the bench and plummeting down to the floor. Teddy frowned, looked him over, tried to place the guy (reporter? Agent? PR guy of Emma’s?) and quickly gave up. “Can I…”

“Help me? I’m hoping we can help each other out, Mr. Altman. Theo. Can I call you Theo? Shay Braga.” The guy leaned forward, elbows on the table and his posture all fake-open, like he’d taken one of those acting classes about body language. The suit he was wearing was fancy, Italian or something, his shoes leather and pointy. His hair was slicked back with something not quite greasy, but the overall effect – plus the pinkie ring – landed somewhere between used car salesman and Brother of a Mob Boss.

“Mr. Braga,” Teddy repeated his name, and he tried on the Do I Know You face he’d seen Billy use in front of weird fans before. “Have we met?”

“We have now,” Braga answered cheerfully. He leaned back in his chair, his body language saying ‘totally at ease’ but his eyes glittering and hard. He reached into the front of his jacket and pulled out a business card holder, sliding a card out of the top. “I’m a producer, Vivid Entertainment Group, you’ve probably heard of us.”

It took a minute too long for Teddy to remember where he’d heard the name before; but in all fairness, he’d never exactly paid attention to the world of straight pornography. He’d automatically taken the card, because that’s what you did when someone handed one to you. By the time the light slowly began to dawn, Braga was talking again.

“We’re looking to expand the LBGT side of our studios and we think you would be a perfect fit.”

 _Oh shit._ That was the first thing that ran through Teddy’s head, followed by a hot _what the fuck?_ “You think _what_?”

_It’s the billboards- I’ll never escape people thinking I’m gonna pose nude-_

“What are the chances you and Will have a sex tape you’d like to sell?” Braga flicked the card that Teddy, stunned, was still holding between his fingers. “We want the rights. Something explicit, raw, doesn’t have to look pro at all. I’m authorized to offer a million flat for worldwide distribution, right here and now.”

“What?” Teddy dropped Braga’s card on the table in between them like it had bitten him. “No!” He recoiled and the volume of his refusal was loud enough that a couple of people turned to stare.

Braga didn’t seem discouraged at all. Elbow on the table, he leaned in, grinning knowingly. “You’re right, what was I thinking? We can go as high as five, an even split between you and Will, keep you boys nice and set for a while. Or hell,” he spread his hands wide and sat back, ignoring the look of horror that had to be really obvious on Teddy’s face, considering how sick he suddenly felt inside. “Who says Will has to know at all? Keep it all for yourself and I won’t judge. We can make it look like it was filmed by someone else. Hotel room, camera in the closet? Totally plausible deniability all around and enough spare change to keep your mother in the lap of luxury the rest of her life.”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Teddy pushed back from the table. He knocked his coffee cup and it splashed over in his rush to get back and away, get the asshole as far out of his personal bubble as physically possible. And this time, everybody in the goddamned café was watching. “What the hell makes you think I would ever sell you anything?”

Braga tch-ed as he stood up, tugging his expensive jacket into place.  “Temper, temper, Theo. You’re not going to get a better offer, you know. You do know who we are, don’t you?”

“I know who you are.” Teddy stood up and stared him down. “You’re nothing but bottom-feeding, exploitative, sleazebag sex-traffickers, and you’re going to get the hell out of my face. Right now, before I call the cops.”

He didn’t seem at all intimidated, even though Teddy had a good few inches of height – and a lot of muscle – on him. He tapped his card, still sitting on the table. “Think about it, Theo. That’s a lot of money to throw away.”

“Never going to happen.” Teddy picked up the card and crumpled it in his hand, then dropped it in the half-full coffee mug sitting in a puddle on the table in front of him. “No. Final answer.”

The barista had made her way over by that point, all five-foot-nothing of her. She barely came up to the guy’s shoulder, but the tattoos up and down her arms suggested she wasn’t exactly the wilting-flower type. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” she asked, all sugar-sweet, with a look on her face that suggested she had a pretty good idea there was.

“None at all, sugar,” Braga oozed, and she tightened her hand on the coffee pot she was holding like a bludgeoning weapon. “I was just leaving.”

“Good.” She stood still and watched him as he strode out of the café, apparently completely unaffected by Teddy’s burst of temper.

“What the fuck?” Teddy breathed aloud, watching the door close behind him.

Entertainment over, the noise rose again in the little café as everyone went back to their own conversations, one or two stealing a glance at Teddy as he slowly sat down, his adrenaline still boiling in his blood.

A sex tape? They wanted him to sell a _sex tape_? Or worse, have he and Billy pimp themselves out and make one… was this what they did? Just… go up to people and make offers until someone bit? Or – or was it because they’d been in the news pretending to get caught fucking-

Around in circles they went, and kept coming back to the same thing in every circuit. _How could they think I would betray him like that?_

“I’ll get you a new cup,” the barista’s voice cut in to Teddy’s moment of wild panic.

“No thanks,” Teddy shook his head and grabbed his bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder as he stood. He was running late already, and- and he was going to feel a lot worse later if he didn’t caffeinate now. “On second thought- Can I get it to go?”

It was a minute or two later by the time Teddy pushed the door open and headed out into the sunshine again. He turned the corner and caught one last glimpse of Braga, cell phone to his ear, sliding into the back seat of a town car. The door closed behind the scumbag and the car pulled away from the curb.

Teddy tried to shake it off, headed down the other way toward the train station, the odd and unsettling brew of disquiet, shock and violation sitting low and sour in his gut.

* * *

Billy poked morosely at the slimy, cold noodles left at the bottom of his takeout box, the remnants of his dinner thoroughly unsatisfying. He couldn’t even steal something good from Teddy, because he was on a salad and plain-chicken-breast kick. Tommy and Kate were being entirely too loud over on the other side of the table, and if Billy could somehow visually manifest his general mood, it would take the shape of one of those classic cartoon thunderclouds hanging over his head.

 _It’s time to grow up_. Emma’s words kept ringing in his head, and as much as he wanted to fight, to kick and yell and point his fingers at everyone else, she had every right to say it. Not that she hadn’t done some shitty, shady things as well, but-

But it was his face on the line. And Teddy’s career was just starting, and he was fresh meat in town. Say what you would about Emma, but she and Grand-dad had made sure that Billy and Tommy had been safe, in a city where young bodies and new faces were easy prey.

Teddy was old enough and strong enough not to get tangled up in some of the grosser shit that went down, but it didn’t mean a damned thing if Lehnsherr Group, Inc decided to stop their semi-visible support.

Ultimately, Billy was going to have to be the one to live with whatever he ended up doing. To look inside himself, make the right call, and accept the consequences.

It was a lot easier to blame Emma.

The conversation moved around him, and he tuned back in to hear Teddy’s laughing comment. “Every time I swear I’m going to give up reading anything, but then I’m in the grocery store and the headlines are _right there_.”

Billy sat back, pushed his carton away. Focus on where he was, not what he should have done, or should be doing. A hundred different ‘shoulds,’ pulling him in different directions. “What are they saying now?”

Why did Teddy look surprised that he’d spoken? Had he really been out of it for so long tonight? Billy made a silent promise to himself to stop sulking, and do better.

Teddy didn’t seem to notice the spin of his thoughts, just draped his arm across the back of Billy’s chair, a solid and reliable presence. “Apparently we got married,” he informed Billy, and Tommy hooted a laugh. “The Enquirer was claiming that we’re selling the video rights to our wedding to the highest bidder.”

“If we’re that strapped for cash, we’re in trouble.” Billy flashed him a smile, and a tightness eased in Teddy’s shoulders. _Pay attention to what you’re doing to him, dumbass. He deserves better than you sulking all week._ “Is that better or worse than the fake-romance debate?”

“Could be worse.” Kate downed the last of her wine, Tommy’s hand resting easily on her knee. “At least they can’t pin a pregnancy on you. I’ve been put into bump-watch columns three times in the past year and a half. I’m going to have a t-shirt made,” she declared, spreading her hands wide in the air. “‘I’m not pregnant, I just hate spin class.’ Watch ‘em sit and twist on that.”

“So you’re not, is what you’re saying,” Teddy teased her, yanking his leg back before she could kick him under the table.  

Kate scoffed. “Please. Tommy and I as parents? That’s the kind of nightmare IUDs were made for.”

He’d be firing off a blistering response any second now, and Billy waited for it, but Tommy stayed quiet. He gave Kate a look that Billy couldn’t interpret, and drummed the fingers of his free hand on the tabletop in quiet irritation.

_Hunh._

Teddy’s longing looks at Billy’s leftovers turned to action, and he nudged Billy gently in the ribs. “Are you going to eat that?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Aren’t you on a regimen now?” Kate asked, and Teddy sighed.

“For at least a month,” he said mournfully, and didn’t reach out for the box. “And back to the gym on a daily basis. Apparently I’ve been slacking, and Nate has plans to kick my ass.”

“Losing your youthful figure already?”

Billy tuned out of the banter, but not to slide back into his own head. Tommy had a look in his eye, something simmering deep down below the surface. Teddy wouldn’t pick up on it, and Kate wasn’t looking his way, but Billy saw. It was the same expression that he’d seen on Tommy in Emma’s office, and years before that, when he’d been fighting with their grandfather over quitting the show.

He cocked his head, as though to ask if Tommy was okay. Tommy’s scowl got darker, which answered that question. Billy slid his gaze over to Kate for a moment and then back again, but Tommy shook his head in a curt gesture.

_Fine, we’re not going to talk about that either._

He was so over being a sitcom kid, but there had been times, back when he and Tommy had shared a trailer and been up each other’s noses all the time, when they’d spent half the day bouncing around on sets built just for them, when the whole thing had been a game and his brother—his twin—had been his first and best partner in crime. That, Billy missed.

Never more so than right now. He used to be able to know what Tommy was thinking in the moment, be able to read every twitch and flicker on his face. But they’d been drifting apart, the last few months more than ever, and instead of flashes of perfect insight there were more and more moments when Tommy’s face didn’t look like Billy’s mirror at all.

Did Billy even know who _he_ was anymore? He’d gone from sullen resentment to outright rebellion and back in the space of weeks, the whole thing leaving him shaken and unsure. Where Tommy had been an anchor Teddy was just as adrift, trying to figure things out just as much. Except he was relying on Billy to be the experienced one, the career guru, and that was probably the dumbest thing anyone had ever tried to expect from him.

 _Yeah_ , Tommy’s eyebrow seemed to say. _You got that right._

Who else did he have, really? Tommy, but Tommy was turning away. Mom and Uncle Pete, but they weren’t right here, and Mom, at least, wanted so much for them to be _happy_. It would kill her to find out that Billy was restless, now that he was in arm’s reach of the thing he’d always claimed was his dream.

Emma, surrogate mother, handler, lion tamer- no, they weren’t lions. She was a shepherd, then, and Billy and Tommy the sacrificial lambs.

“Emma’s not our friend, you know,” Tommy broke in to Billy’s ruminations, picking up the thread of his thoughts and turning it into open conversation. Kate and Teddy’s chatter died away, leaving silence behind. “Try and remember who’s on your side, and who isn’t.”

“Good luck with that in this town,” Kate added dryly. “You’re pretty much looking at the home team right here.”

“You think I don’t know that, after that performance?” Billy snarked back at Tommy. “It was like Jekyll and Hyde,” he mourned.

Instead of commiserating, Tommy barked a laugh. “Like hell it was. You’ve never taken a good look at Emma when she’s losing control. This? This was her all over. It would be different if good ol’ Gramps were around more often, instead of fucking off to the East Coast all the time, but he’s not here. Which gives her _ideas._ ”

“Like he would do anything to stop her?” Billy shook his head. He was vaguely aware of Teddy’s growing confusion beside him, but these were well-worn paths, and neither twin needed to fill in the details aloud. “They’re the planners, Tommy. The two of them have had our career trajectories plotted out since we were born, practically. You’re trying to talk me out of playing by her rules again, but I’ve got my reasons.”

And one of them was sitting right beside him, arm around Billy’s shoulders.

 _He’s hitched his star to mine, and I can’t let him down a second time._  

“And it’s a losing game. You don’t see it because you don’t want to. We’re all just pieces on a chess board, and I’m not playing anymore. And you.” Tommy turned and stabbed a finger at Teddy. “Why are you going along with his dumb shit? It’s not like he knows any more than you do. Less, frankly, given how they tied us up in bubble wrap and only let us out to be good little performing monkeys.”

Tommy pushed his chair back from the table with such force that it toppled over when he stood up. He grabbed it and shoved it back before it hit the floor, but the violence of the movement sent Kate recoiling. “Peace out, idiots. I’m going to the beach.”

The door slammed behind him, and a stunned silence followed.

 _He forgot his keys_.

“What the hell got into him?” Kate asked, staring at the door with a frown settling between her eyebrows.

Teddy shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. Bee?”

Billy shrugged, pretended to be as clueless as they were, but he knew. He’d seen the moment the shadow had come into Tommy’s eyes, and his mood had gone dark. The argument had been about something else, but then, wasn’t it always?

Family was the only thing in this artificial world that was real. How much worse was it going to be for him now, when Billy had Teddy, if Tommy ended up alone?

* * *

**Oscar Nominations to Follow Globes’ Lead Again?**

Industry voters swear up and down that the Globes winners have no bearing on who gets nominated for Hollywood’s most coveted trophy, but the booze-and-scandal-soaked baby brother awards show has a reasonable track record of pulling for the winners. Movie-makers everywhere today will be keeping their phones turned on in meetings and rehearsals all over the world. Who will be getting that special call? We’ll have the full list for you later, once all the nominees have been notified.

* * *

**Billy: Oh God. Oh God. I’m hyperventilating.**

**Teddy: It can’t be that bad if you’re able to type.**

**Billy: Emma called.**

**Teddy: And? What does she want?**

**Billy: EMMA CALLED.**

**Billy: THAT CALL.**

**Billy: Nominations had to be in before the Globes, so I didn’t fuck this up completely after all.**

**Teddy: You’re serious? Holy shit, Bee!**

**Billy: Come over.**

**Billy: No, I’ll come to you. Where are you?**

**Teddy: On set, we’re at Raleigh. Sound stages on Melrose.**

**Billy: I’ll be there in half an hour. Ish.**

**Teddy: I get to congratulate an honest-to-God Academy-certified A-lister big time movie star. Very nice.**

**Teddy: gonna blow you in my trailer.**

**Billy: twenty minutes.**

* * *

**[update, 2 pm]**

Despite the fact that votes were due in to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences the afternoon before the Globes actually happened, the slates look very familiar this time around as well. Best Actor winner and relative film newcomer Will Lehnsherr was a shoe-in for one of the coveted slots, but he’s up against a very impressive slate. Leonardo DiCaprio’s up again after an impressive five previous nominations, and his performance in _Revenant_ is going to be tough to beat…

* * *

**Stars: they’re just like us!**

**They buy coffee on the run!** Theo Altman stopped in to a café around the corner from boyfriend Will Lehnsherr’s condo Jan. 20 th for an early morning pick-me-up.

 

 **They do their homework!** Oscar nominee Will Lehnsherr brought a blanket to Silver Lake Reservoir Jan 21 st to do some heavy-duty script reading for his new project.

 

 **They spend time with their families!** Producer Erik Lehnsherr and grandson Tom left ultra-exclusive Soho House social club together on Jan 23 rd. It’s easy to see where the Lehnsherr twins get their dashing good looks!

* * *

WILL LEHNSHERR: Cheating With His Brother’s Girlfriend? (Will and Kate x 2? Say it ain’t so) Caught having an intense—and apparently very personal—conversation at the Farmer’s Market, what else is happening behind closed doors?

**Billy: Please re-bleach your hair.**

**Tommy: Not a chance.**

* * *

There’s a slow and steady buzz starting to grow about independent film ‘Evolution Ink’ currently filming in L.A. Industry sources with set access say that the young cast is on-point, and director Lee Daniels has a clear and impressive vision for this new project. Oscar nominee Will Lehnsherr pays regular visits to the set to spend time with partner Theo Altman, one of the leads in the film —could the Lehnsherr Group be keeping an eye on the process? The word is that Daniels is aiming for a Cannes premiere, which makes for a tight production schedule.

* * *

 **Katiekate**                    FOLLOW

[[A selfie of Kate and three friends – two fair and blonde, one dark-skinned with curly hair – hanging out pool-side with fruity drinks. Palm trees in the background, hats, bikinis and sunglasses, the vibe is pure California-dreaming.]]

490k likes

 **Katiekate** : Girlie getaway with @giantgirl @lisahalloran and America who is too cool for Insta. #whoneedsboys #weekendsareforfun

_view comments_

* * *

Another day, another long car ride with Emma playing babysitter in the seat next to Billy. Either she’d forgiven him since the Oscar nominations had come out or she was saving up blackmail material for another attack later, because she was being positively warm. Honestly, that had him more concerned than Emma yelling at him could ever inspire.

Right now, though, things were positively peaceful, considering how packed his schedule was apparently about to get.

“-table read today will be followed by a meet and greet with the cast and a reporter for Playboy.”

“Seriously?” Billy couldn’t stop the reaction, or the sarcasm, but Emma only smiled thinly.

“Hefner’s reign is over, they’re rebranding as a serious culture magazine. It will only last a few months, but right now everyone’s talking about the revamp, so it’s a good time to get you on the cover. They’re doing a feature on the resurgence in espionage films, something to do with Ian Fleming and so forth.” She waved it off as if it was unimportant. “I’ll give you the list of talking points by lunchtime, you’ll have plenty of time to get them memorized.” She gave him an impenetrable look over the silver rims of her sunglasses. “Stick to those, and you’ll be fine.”

Billy tipped his head back against the leather seat and sighed. “I promise, I won’t do anything to embarrass the firm. Again.” Inside, mind you, he was running through his list of options. Tommy still hadn’t come home for longer than a few minutes at a time, and his parting shots had left a tangle of thoughts rolling around inside Billy’s wrung-out brain. It was impossible to really think of Emma as an enemy; she’d been everything except a surrogate mother to him for too long for that. But if he stepped back, tried to keep himself outside the moment, looking in as though they were characters in their own little telenovela, it made it easier.

And for the moment, it made more sense to go along with things than to turn the table over and dance on it. To mix metaphors.

“That’s all we ask.” She tapped through some messages on her tablet with brutal efficiency. “I’m keeping Thursday clear—Out Magazine is negotiating. They want to do a full profile on you—possibly you and Theo together—for the April issue, tie it in with the GLAAD awards. I’ll let you know by tomorrow if that’s a go.”

He nodded, the car pulling on to the studio lot. Billy’s fingers closed around the edges of the hefty script sitting in his lap. No matter how many times he’d done this, it never got easier. The anxiety swept up like a tidal wave, the knowledge that this time, he might fuck it up. Even though they’d come to _him_ (or Emma, which was pretty much the same thing), he might not be what they wanted.

He had to try and thrive on it, be like Tommy and feed on the nervous energy until he didn’t care so much anymore. It was one thing to fuck around in front of fans and the media—they only saw him as something to poke at and catalog, an object to own. But in there, he actually had to be something _good._

It was more terrifying than he ever wanted to let on.

_Just hang on a little longer. Once we’re actually in there, this part will feel like a bad dream again._

If Emma knew what was going through his head, if she saw him go white-knuckle on the script, she didn’t say anything. She did smile at him though, which was worse.

“One last thing,” she said, just as the driver parked in front of the sound stage door. “Your grandfather is back in town.”

That wasn’t news. Tommy had been out with him, and Billy had had a weird moment of wondering why—why Tommy and not him—but he’d managed to ignore the niggle in his stomach.

“He wants you to join him for dinner tonight.”

 _That_ was news. 

“There’s a table booked for you at Soho for ten, so dress well and don’t be late. Do you need me to send a car around?” Emma stared him down, and if he’d thought she’d been unreadable before, he was staring at a flat steel slab now.

“No. Thank you.”  He could say no, honestly. He was an adult, and there was no reason he couldn’t say ‘fuck it’ and go hang out with Teddy instead. Teddy had been on set practically 24-7 for the past couple of days, when he wasn’t at the gym or passed out exhausted. What was the point of having a boyfriend if you never got to see him, even when you were in the same city?

 _That’s never going to get easier_. He ignored the dark rumble coming from his nerves. (It was only because he wasn’t biting on the idea of fucking up at the read through. His stupid brain was just trying to get him to obsess about something else horrible.)

On the other hand, what better chance would he ever have to get some things out in the open? The old man was a remote and distant overseer, always pulling strings from the darkness—maybe this would be a chance for Billy to pull some of his own right back.

“I’ll get there on my own.” He grabbed the door handle, only for the car doors to lock themselves. When he looked back over, Emma had one finger on the lock-all button.

She gave him a look.

Billy matched it. “I will. I will be there, dressed appropriately, and on time.”

Emma nodded, one eyebrow flickering up, then she released the door locks. “Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

“Life is full of regrets.” Billy got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Childish, maybe. But he didn’t have to pretend to be cowed, even if everyone was behaving themselves now.

_You threatened to replace me. I won’t forget that so easily._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy can't run from his feelings forever, and a meeting with Grand-Dad is the perfect catalyst to blow down his house of cards. It's possible to have everything and have nothing, all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger in this chapter - see end notes.
> 
> (Posting note - my internet has been super-screwy today and it's storming outside, so on the off chance that things go down overnight I'm putting this up a few hours early. I assume folks won't mind.)

“Come on, Billy. This shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.” Tommy’s voice filtered through the phone speaker, tinny and crisp. Their mother’s kitchen was half in shadow in the background, only a small sliver of the space visible in the phone camera. Billy could practically smell the warmth of the fresh-baked bread that would be filling the kitchen.

Tommy gestured with the half-eaten roll in his hand. “I’m completely over L.A. It’s gotten boring.”

Billy flopped back on the bed and held his phone up so he could still see Tommy, the clock in the corner still ticking slowly away. He was in post-table read adrenaline crash and calling his brother had seemed like a good way to pass the time until he had to go for Dinner With Gramps, but now he was starting to feel very sorry that he had. “You can’t go to New York. What are you going to do out there?” He frowned. “I’ll be completely alone in this stupid condo,” he tried, but Tommy completely refused to look concerned, or even a little guilty.

“So move loverboy in,” Tommy suggested, way too carelessly. “He’s gonna be a big star soon, isn’t he? He’ll be able to afford the fees.”

“Is that why you’re bailing?” A wave of guilt spread over _Billy_ , and that wasn’t fair, when Tommy was the one who was ditching. “Because of Teddy? I thought you liked him!”

Tommy only snorted. “Dial down the ego, little bro. You couldn’t find a guy who could drive me out of my own place if I didn’t want to move. Nothing lasts forever,” he added. “Including my little love affair with la-la land. Thanks to your freakout, I can make a clean break while Emma’s still pissed at _you_. And you owe me big time for recent favors rendered.”

“Couldn’t you ask for payback that didn’t mean moving?” Billy groused, the irritation climbing up his spine. “I thought you and Grand-dad were best buddies all of a sudden. What did he say?”

“Forget him. I’ve had an offer from a producer I know—spin at a bunch of his clubs, maybe cut an album. But he’s New York based, and I wanna see snow again before I’m old.”

“A producer?” Billy repeated. “Who?”

Tommy shrugged, which meant he cared about something a lot more than he was about to let on. “A guy Kate banged a while back.”

 _Oh. Where the hell have I been?_ How had he missed so much of the last few weeks of Tommy’s life? They’d been ships passing in the night, for the most part, but they’d had months like that before—projects that didn’t overlap, Tommy out all night and Billy out all day. But he’d never lost track so thoroughly or felt quite as unstable as he did right now. “… _seriously_?”

Tommy shrugged again. “It’s cool. We’re fine.”

“What does she think about you moving?”

“Didn’t ask.” Tommy sagged back in his chair, and linked his hands behind his head, a gesture so familiar that Billy’s heart started to ache. “Everyone’s gotta fly the nest at some point, Billy. You are. So am I.”

“I’m not ‘flying the nest,’” Billy objected, even though everything he’d been doing for the past – what? Four months? – suggested firmly that he was. He just hadn’t thought about it that way. Or, to be fair, thought much about it at all.

“Get a decent apartment,” Billy said instead of arguing, and he saw a familiar smile tug up one corner of Tommy’s mouth. “I don’t want to sleep on the living room couch when I crash with you.”

“Fuck that, chavo,” Tommy snorted. “Get a hotel if you want linen service.”

“I’m counting the days until your stank-ass shoes are out of the living room,” Billy fired back. “When are you leaving?”

Tommy shook his head. “Not for a month or two,” he replied, and his voice had lost some of the edge to it. Billy understood. “Enough time to watch your career go down in flames, live and in person.”

“Keep dreaming, jackass. And say hi to mom and Uncle Pete for me.”

Billy hung up on his brother as Tommy was cranking the handle of a pretend jack in the box. It was easier to pick the fight and fall back on the affectionate name-calling than it was to sort out the horrible knot tying itself tight inside his chest.

The clock blinked at him. 6:45 pm. Enough time for a shower before he had to leave, and then maybe food. He could keep himself distracted long enough to shake the fear, at least for the rest of the night. But the world was going to keep turning, no matter how much he tried to hide himself away.

* * *

The text that Billy wouldn’t be able to make it over for dinner was a disappointment, for sure. On the other hand, that plus Nate calling in to cancel their session that afternoon meant that Teddy had the chance to actually catch a nap before heading for the gym.

He shouldn’t complain—he was working, actually acting, and it was amazing. If he had any complaint, it was that the work itself was in such short bursts of total chaos. He was in a lot of the scenes, which was better than some of the other cast had it, but there was so much time dicking around with lights and sound checks and retakes that he could have booked modeling shoots in between each take and-

Well, no. Not really. But he was getting some pretty good high scores on Mario Kart, and his DS battery seemed half on the verge of dying for good.

Maybe going back to theatre would be easier.

Except, he mused, slinging his towel around his neck and slamming the locker door closed, then you had to be On, like capital O-on, every night and matinee for weeks on end.

One way or the other, it was hard goddamned work. Whatever it might look like from the outside.

He’d been on the ball enough to call ahead rather than just show up and hope one of the trainers would take pity on him. He could work out on his own, sure, but then he was always tempted to take it a bit easier on himself than he should. It was a lot easier to drop the weights by a few pounds or do one less set when there was no one there holding him accountable.

Maybe he’d go up and harass Eli at the boxing ring upstairs and they could go a few rounds. That was always good-

“Theo?” A voice stopped Teddy on his way past the main desk. A trainer he’d never seen before was a standing there, clipboard in hand, and – yeah, he was definitely a trainer, because he was wearing the gym’s t-shirt, pulled snug over firm muscles. “I’m Jordan. I’m subbing in for Nate today.” And he held out his hand.

In another lifetime—hell, six months ago—Teddy would have tripped over his own tongue. Jordan was tall, tall enough to look Teddy in the eye. He wasn’t bulked-up, despite obviously being ridiculously fit. He was sleek instead, long-limbed and toned to the nth degree, blue eyes glinting at Teddy from under a shock of dark hair. He was _exactly_ the physical type Teddy had once reblogged on his more private accounts, the kind of fantasy fodder that had led to—and stemmed from—his teenaged crush on Billy in the first place.

“Good to meet you.” Teddy stuck out his hand purely on autopilot. Jordan’s grip was firm and warm, and his smile seemed genuine.

_He’s going to be collecting a lot of numbers working here._

“Come on back,” Jordan invited, and walked a couple of steps ahead of Teddy, leading the way into the weightroom. “I pulled your chart, but is there anything in particular you’d like to start with?” He glanced back over his shoulder, and-

Was he _flirting_?

“Uh.” Teddy shook off the thought. If anything, the guy was probably on the hustle to build up a client base of his own. Too bad for him; Teddy wasn’t really inclined to jump teams when things were going well, and he’d always liked Nate. “I’m on arms today, but I think I have to take my shirt off for a scene tomorrow. So, crunches.” He sighed. “Lots of crunches.”

Jordan nodded seriously, and wove his way through the machines and the groups of grunting men and women until he stopped at an open bench. “Sounds like a plan. A few sets on the arms first, work the major muscle groups, then we’ll switch over. I have to say,” he said, grabbing a couple of plates to set on the dumbbell. “I’m surprised that you work out here. Aren’t you more of a Hollywood guy now?”

Teddy shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bench to start stretching out while Jordan set up the equipment. “I’ve been coming here since I moved to L.A. Why change something that works?”

“In this town?” Jordan snorted a laugh. “It seems like everyone’s always chasing the next big thing. Enough is never ‘enough.’ If you know what I mean.”

Teddy nodded. “I think I do.” That described him pretty well, at least when it came to work. Maybe not anywhere else. But he didn’t want to be a megastar, not in the way that Billy was—not right away, anyway. He just wanted to tell stories. And if money and fame came along with that, he wasn’t exactly going to say no. Right?

“Here; try this.” Jordan patted the loaded dumbbell and waited for Teddy to slide down the bench. He straddled the back, the normal position for spotting, and there was nothing at all out of the ordinary about the way he was standing. Except that when Teddy scrubbed his hands off on his shorts and reached up for the bar, Jordan’s fingertip brushed his knuckles.

It was so fleeting that he could just have imagined it, the same way he was probably imagining the way Jordan’s gaze lingered on Teddy’s upper arms. “One,” Teddy said firmly, set himself and pushed. Then it was just routine, nothing to think about but the burn in his arms, trying to control the rhythm of his breathing, engaging his back, taking his body through the usual paces until it was honed, enough for the camera, enough for his ego-

“Ten,” Jordan said aloud. “You’re holding your breath. Come on, let it out. You can give me one more.”

Teddy opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and looked up, meeting Jordan’s eyes. They really were very blue. “Give it to me,” Jordan said—no, he purred—and surprised, Teddy almost let go of the bar.

“One more press, Theo, come on. Don’t wimp out on me now,” Jordan ordered, and the moment was gone. And Teddy felt like an idiot for even imagining there had been something else on his mind. His arms burned, his shoulders tight, but he got it up—that and two more reps, before his arms gave out on him.

He sat up, shaking his head to get his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Jordan was there a moment later with his towel, draping it mostly around his neck. “Not bad, for a big-time movie guy,” he teased easily, and flicked the corner of the towel up over Teddy’s head.

Teddy laughed at that, rubbing his hair down before slinging the towel back down around his neck. “I’m not that, not really.” _Not yet._

“Don’t knock it,” Jordan insisted, straddling the bench beside Teddy. His thighs looked like he could crush heads between them. “I saw one of the music videos you were in, the construction workers?”

Teddy groaned, grabbing the water bottle before he could blush. “It’s only been on repeat play twenty-four hours a day for a month,” he laughed. “You couldn’t miss it.”

“Tell me, did they have to oil you guys up for that, or was it actually that hot out?”

“Spray bottles,” Teddy admitted. “Same as any shoot. You can hide a lot of flaws under a layer of shiny.”

Jordan eyed him up and down, and now there was no mistaking it. Teddy’s heart sped up in something vaguely like panic. “I dunno. I’m not seeing that many flaws from here.” He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the bench, his arms flexing. “I have to confess, I’m a big fan of yours.”

“You are?” Teddy frowned, trying to get a mental handle on a situation that seemed to be heading sideways. But what if he was wrong, and he shut down a guy who was just trying to be nice? _Rude_.

Jordan glanced up at him through the dark hair that fell across his brow, and he pushed it aside with an impatient sweep of his hand. The eyes that met Teddy’s were bright, his mouth was smiling. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this out loud,” he said, his voice dropping a little so that Teddy had to lean in some to hear him over the background noise of the gym. “But I have one of your ads up in my locker. It helps motivate me, you know?” And this time, the fingertips brushing against Teddy’s were no accident.

_No, I was right the first time. Shit._

“Are you busy after this?” Jordan asked. “Let me take you for dinner.”

Teddy pulled back, putting as much space between them as he could without actually falling off the end of the weight bench. He rose to his feet instead of falling on his ass, and a couple of the guys on the next machine over glanced their way.

_Don’t call attention to this. More media bullshit is the last thing I need._

“No. That is, I’m flattered, but I’m seeing someone. Which, if you’re actually a ‘fan’ of mine, you’d know.”

“Lehnsherr?” Jordan stood and closed half the distance between them again. Not so close as to be intimate, but close enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. “I thought it was a publicity thing. The blogs-”

“Don’t know what they’re talking about,” Teddy said firmly. He could still get this back on track, surely. “I have a boyfriend. And I’m just here to get a workout in. So why don’t we forget this happened and get back to that.”

Jordan regarded him for a moment, pursing his lips. Teddy felt small, somehow, like he was being weighed and measured. “He doesn’t need to know,” Jordan said, instead of taking the Hint so big that it wasn’t even a hint anymore. “I’m down for a one-time thing.”

“Forget it.” Teddy backed away another couple of steps, then – fuck it. He shook his head. “You know, we’re done here. I’ve got to get to set. I’ll come back when Nate’s working.”

“Theo, wait. I’m sorry.” Jordan followed him as Teddy headed for the door, stopping him once they got to the hallway. “I put you on the spot, I get it. Let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t quit, do you?” Teddy brushed Jordan’s hand off his arm, and how could he ever have thought the guy was good-looking? He was some kind of weird stalker, or a wannabe starfucker, or…or he was a guy who really liked Teddy and just didn’t know when to quit. Whatever his reasons, it wasn’t happening. “Just stop. I won’t report you for hitting on a client, but that’s it. I’m taken. I’m happy. And I’m not a cheat.”

Jordan nodded, and he dropped his arm. “I hope Lehnsherr knows how lucky he is,” was all he said.

Teddy didn’t stay to talk, just shook his head and headed for the locker room, his skin feeling slimy, somehow, and too tight. The tiled space was empty for the moment, and he stopped in front of locker, then slowly leaned forward and banged his head against the cool metal once, twice, three times.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he said aloud, his words echoing in the empty room, “is wrong with the world this week?”

* * *

The car arrived at the appointed time—he’d given up and gone with the convenient option after all—and for once Billy wasn’t pushing his luck. He was tempted to be ‘unavailable’ for the concierge’s call up, or to fart around and make them just that slightly bit late that would say ‘screw you’ in unmistakable terms… But while Tommy might get away with that, and Emma put up with it in limited doses, the magnetic pull that Erik Lehnsherr still seemed to have over Billy’s life took firm hold. He was downstairs in the lobby when the car pulled up, but once he was settled in, the driver turned left instead of right.

Billy leaned forward, concern flashing hot inside him for a moment. _Kidnapping? Is this even Emma’s car? I’m too trusting, that’s what I am._

“I’m supposed to be at the Soho House,” he said evenly, his mind already grabbing on to the worst-case scenario and spinning it in a dozen different and progressively more horrible directions. Billy dropped his hand to his pocket—his second phone was there. He could hit the speed dial the moment shit hit the fan, and Teddy would know where to come find him.

Probably.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied, his tone crisp and professional. _Not a hired assassin, then… but then assassins would have to be able to blend in. Voice actors would be awesome at that_. “Mr. Lehnsherr’s instructions were to bring you to his office first.”

“Oh.” Billy let himself fall backward into the seat again, strings of tension momentarily cut. No crisis, no disaster, just his grandfather changing plans on him and too many hours spent doing background research on espionage. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

_I’m working too hard._

A series of streetlights flickered by, yellow and amber against the dark night sky.

_He’s going to tell me I’m not working hard enough._

Or maybe, just maybe, Grand-dad was going to tell Billy that he was proud of him, and what he’d accomplished.

_And pigs are going to fly out of my butt._

Also, _I’m an adult. I have my own life, and I don’t need him to approve of my choices._

But it would feel so good if he did.

* * *

The elevator ride up to Erik’s office was longer than the one to Emma’s, the CEO’s giant spread taking up the bulk of the top floor of the towering skyscraper. Billy stepped out into a chrome and glass lobby high above the city, lights winking at him from the skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The silence of this level was almost absolute, making Emma’s busy space seem like a three-ring circus.

Grand-dad’s practically ageless assistant had dark red hair today, and she looked Billy over with the same kind of faintly acquisitional interest that Emma deployed at him on a regular basis. “He’s waiting for you,” was all she said, rising from her chair in a fluid motion before crossing to open the door to the inner sanctum.

Billy followed her in, steeling himself.

Erik’s office was mostly dark, the ceiling lights off and only a standing lamp beside his desk casting a warm glow over that corner of the room. Grand-dad stood at the window looking out, his hands clasped behind his back, an imperious grey streak topped with white hair. The tall windows continued along behind him and wrapped around, turning the dimly lit space into a platform with indistinct edges. A man, a chair, a desk balancing on the top of a building, the world falling away from them in all directions.

A wave of vertigo washed over him before his inner ear and sense of balance confirmed that gravity was still a thing, that he wasn’t about to plunge over an edge into the waiting abyss.

_At least I know exactly where I get my sense of the dramatic._

“Erik,” his assistant said, and Grand-dad turned. He inclined his head and she retreated, closing the door behind Billy with a firm and final click.

The air seemed to go out of the room, and Billy stood, for once without a script or a direction to rely on. “Grandfather,” he said, and his voice seemed to die before it got halfway across the vast open space.

“Come here, William.” The voice was as strong as ever, and had Billy missed something, or was there warmth in it? For a moment he remembered—dinners at home, laughter around the big table with Grand-dad at the head; running after him in the park with a kite in hand, begging him to launch it higher, higher; watching out the big bay windows for his car to turn into the driveway, racing Tommy to the front door to be the first to open it.

Years before grandfather turned into ‘employer’ and ‘family dinners’ into business meetings.

When Billy was loved solely for existing.

He crossed the shadowed office, burying those memories deeper with every step. Until he came to the edge of the circle of light, and stepped inside.

Grand-dad smiled at him, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes, just like it used to be, and he gestured for Billy to take a seat in the fancy leather armchair placed kitty-corner to his own.

Suspicion warred with some unnamed yearning, a hunger that spanned the gap between them. Billy found himself moving forward, taking his seat. “How are things?”

The look Erik gave him was disappointed and he turned, opening the small cabinet against the window. Billy heard the clink of glasses, and his grandfather placed the pair of snifters on the desk. “Can I offer you a drink?”

A setup, this was a setup, something was wrong.

“Sure,” was all Billy said. He found himself watching Erik’s hands rather than his eyes, as he uncorked a crystal decanter—how very old-school—and poured a couple of fingers of amber liquid into each one. “Thank you.”

“I’ve had words with Emma,” Erik said, lowering himself into his chair. He was moving more slowly than the last time Billy had seen him. More deliberately, somehow, as though something was bothering him.

The drink in his hand was brandy, the smell hitting Billy full-force when he took his first sip. It was snuggling on his grandfather’s lap and breathing in the smell of his suit jacket, being offered his first drink at a Kiddush on Shabbat and coughing himself sick when the fire in his throat went down the wrong way. It was sneaking around with Tommy and pilfering shots-full from the bottle Mom kept in the sideboard, filling the missing liquid back up with water and hoping no-one would notice.

Was this going to be about memories? He needed to focus, to sit with something to keep himself in the here and now. Billy took another sip of his drink, the taste a grounding thing this time instead of an agent of nostalgia. “Yes, and?”

Erik sighed, steepling his fingers in front of himself, his drink sitting untouched on the desk. “She overstepped her bounds with you earlier this month. I’ve made it very clear to her that she was out of line.”

Unexpected as that was, Billy caught and stepped on his first, much less charitable reaction before he said something that he was going to eventually regret. “I didn’t realize you knew about it,” he began. “But I guess you do hear everything eventually.”

Erik leveled him with a look. “She has a very important role in this organization, however. I trust that you won’t make her job more difficult than it already is.”

“Is this meeting about lecturing me on listening to Emma?” Billy said before he could stop himself. So much for staying calm and watchful. “Because I thought that whole thing was over and done with.”

“Not at all. I feel,” Erik began, and when was the last time Billy had heard him use those two words in that order? “-as though we’ve drifted, William. I don’t know enough about your life these days.”

“I’m amazed, seeing as half the town works for you one way or another. I’d get some new spies, because your old ones obviously aren’t doing their jobs properly.”

He should be shitting himself in terror right about now, but Billy couldn’t find the fear in there, not the way he had when Emma had chewed him out. She was work; if he’d never started acting he’d only ever have known her as an associate of his grandfather’s. But Erik was blood and he could take it, would take whatever anger Billy and Tommy had festering inside, and he’d know what to do with it, somehow.

 _Not fair, not being fair to him_ \- a little voice whispered inside, and Billy ignored it. _He’s never been fair to us_.

Without seeming to notice the battle Billy was waging with himself, Erik frowned and reached for his glass. “You’ve been unhappy the last few years, that much I do know. And that’s without any so-called ‘spies.’ We’re family, William, whether you believe in the purity of my motivations or not. That means we need to take care of one another.”

A piece fell into place. “This is why you took Tommy out for drinks last week,” Billy hazarded a guess. “Did you have the same conversation with him?”

“That’s one regret I’ve always had.” Erik turned his glass, the crystal facets catching the light and throwing sparks. “Not treating you as proper individuals while you were younger.”

“Because of the twin thing, or because of the employee following-your-orders thing?”

The refracted light caught Erik’s grey eyes and made it look like he was smiling, somehow, his eyes glinting with satisfaction at Billy’s outburst. Then he turned the glass again and the illusion was gone.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.” Erik probably meant it to sound reassuring, but Emma’s threats still rankled and festered in the bottom of Billy’s stomach. Billy was one of a matched set; he’d always been replaceable, one way or another.

“Are you firing me?”

Erik blinked as though he’d been caught off-guard, but that was a lie. Nothing ever took him by surprise. “Why on earth would you think that? You’ve had some magnificent triumphs this year, William, with more to come. I always knew you had it in you.”

That was probably the closest to pride and approval he was going to get, wasn’t it? Billy didn’t want it to feel good, or healing, or any of those things. Anger was safer. There was less chance of getting hurt again that way. Less chance that if he was replaced, he would crumble to pieces.

Billy’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced down, just long enough to see the incoming texts.

**Teddy: Call me when you’re done there.**

**Teddy: I have been having the weirdest fucking day.**

Even though the texts weren’t exactly a spontaneous declaration of love, Billy felt the calm surety of their connection roll over him, secure him to the ground. _I have a life outside of this. I have a career outside of them. With Teddy—Kate and Tommy, too—I have a_ family _outside of them. That’s why they’re so scared of the changes I’ve been trying to make_.

With that thought in mind, however true or not it might be, it was easier to stay calm. “What is it you want from me?”

“Can’t a grandfather enjoy the company of his grandson?”

Billy shook his head. “Not like this. If that was what you wanted, you could just as easily have called mom and said you were going to visit. Then she would have called us to come down, and we could spend a week pretending that we were a normal family.”

If any of the barbs hit, or stung, Erik’s expression didn’t show it. “Is that what you really want, William? To be so-called ‘normal’?” He leaned in, resting his elbow on the desk. “You have an exceptional talent, my boy. Both you and your brother do. The narratives you’re telling right now are vitally important.

“Did you know,” he added conversationally, leaning back as if this was any old casual before-dinner conversation, “that donations to LBGT organizations doubled in regions where we added a charity call in the advertising for _Vere Street_? Your work is making a legitimate difference to the lives of a great many ‘normal’ people. And without the platform you have, they would be far worse off now.”

“I did,” Billy fumbled, trying to keep up with the way the topic was swerving. “But I could do just as much good as— I don’t know. An aid worker, or a hospice volunteer. Run a charity.”

“I don’t think you’d be happy with that, do you?” Erik set his glass down on the table.

Something on the desk beeped, and he glanced at his phone for a moment. “Ah.” When he continued talking, he seemed to change direction out of nowhere. “You were meant for greater things. The right kinds of projects, with the right kinds of colleagues.” He looked up, met Billy’s eye and cocked an eyebrow, his gaze intent and weighed down with deliberate meaning.

_Oh my God._

Billy’s fingers clenched white-knuckled on his glass before he remembered where he was, could convince himself to stay calm and loosen his grip. “You’re talking about Teddy.” He used Teddy’s real name, not his stage version, his voice flat and still.

Erik seemed to be relieved that Billy had been the one to bring him up, spinning his glass thoughtfully, and cocking his head, an eyebrow up. “I’m surprised you jumped to that idea so quickly, William. Could it be that you’re having doubts yourself?”

Bastard! He always was a master at twisting things around until Billy didn’t know whether he was coming or going. “Absolutely not.”

Erik shook his head. “This dalliance with young Altman—it’s a poor alliance. He doesn’t share your background, and no matter how much he cares for you he won’t ever be able to understand what it means to be who you are. What do you really know about this boy? About his family? Who are his people?”

The injustice of it all hit Billy right between the eyes, years worth of bottled-up resentment spilling out of him all at once.

 _Say what you want about me, but don’t you_ ever _malign him_.

“You have got to be kidding me!” he exploded, setting his glass down on the edge of his grandfather’s oak desk so hard that the brandy splashed up and over the side.

“I’ll tell you who his ‘people’ are—they’re his mother, who’s worked her ass off her entire life to give Teddy the opportunities that you just handed me outright. And his agent—who, admittedly, is kind of an ass—but he’s done everything he can to give Teddy a break in this god-damned shark pit of a city.”

(Including some highly unethical things that Billy was still pissed about, of course, and according to Tommy, some very slick professional blackmail. But Tommy had been crowing about David’s move on Emma for a full day and a half. So there was that.)

“And he’s got me. I couldn’t care less that he’s gadje, or not Jewish, or whatever else you’re implying. You say I have talent—maybe I do, but he has more. The only difference between Teddy and I is that I was born your grandson, and his father died in a warzone. If he’d had the kind of luck I did, the kinds of things that just got handed to me because of your name, he’d be a megastar by now.”

“Maybe he would. He’s certainly been using my name quite a bit in the last little while, so I presume we’ll be seeing the end benefits of your privilege and mine reflected in his work shortly.” And the worst of it was, even as poison dropped from his lips, Erik’s voice still held that same hint of warmth, of care, of kindness.

The red rose in the corners of Billy’s vision. “You make it sound like he’s a starfucker.”

“Do you think he would have been interested in you without the Lehnsherr name? I think the evidence rather speaks for itself, don’t you?” Erik swiveled his computer screen around, and called up an email while Billy focused on the images that were appearing.

Teddy at the gym, in workout gear, talking to another man. An incredibly gorgeous man. The guy leaning in, his hand on Teddy’s arm. Teddy sitting on the weight bench, their heads close together from this angle, looking like he was engaged in a deep, intimate conversation.

“While the cat’s away,” Erik suggested mildly, his eyes boring into Billy’s.

_No no no-_

_Motherfucker._

_Well, no. Mother’s-father, technically, but who’s counting?_

_Shut up. This is the point where you’re allowed to get mad._

“… _You_.” Billy rose up out of his seat. The passenger-part of his brain, the part that was always observing, always taking director’s notes, let him know that he was acting like an actress on Dynasty, all melodrama. But what the fuck else could he do?

“You’re behind this somehow.” Erik didn’t react, only sat back in his chair and didn’t deny any of the accusations that Billy let fly. “Whatever’s going on in those pictures, you set it up. To try and make me think he was cheating. I’m willing to bet that you were the one who arranged for those pictures of him with Sylvie as well. You and Emma were the entire reason he and I met in the first place, and now you’re trying to split us apart!”

“What if I did, and have?” Erik asked, his fingers along the side of his jaw, his elbow resting on the chair’s arm. “If anything, I would say uncovering his true nature now would be for the best, before you get too deeply entangled.”

A shadow moved in Billy’s peripheral vision, something blocking the light from the lobby that filtered under the office door. Erik’s assistant, no doubt drawn by the shouting.

Calm settled over Billy, a cool, clear chill that washed away the red fury and the self-doubt. His voice dropped to a more reasonable tone, his teeth firmly clenched so that he wouldn’t snap and start throwing things. “You don’t know anything about his ‘true nature.’ And even if you could see it, I don’t think you’d understand a damn thing. Teddy is selfless, and creative, and _brave_. He’s forgiving—more forgiving than I could ever deserve—and he’s never needed your _name_ , even if he thought he did. He’s going to be a legend one day. And I’m going to be right there beside him for all of it.”

Erik rose, taller than Billy and no less stubborn, his fingertips resting on his desk in a mirror of Billy’s stance. “No grandson of mine is going to throw his life away on some _unknown_.” His eyes flashed, and once—hell, half an hour ago—Billy might have been cowed.

Not anymore.

“I love him,” Billy said, and his tone didn’t allow for any kind of argument. “You can control a lot of things, Grand-dad—hell, if someone told me you could control the weather or the rotation of the stars, I’d have to check first before I denied it. But you can’t control us. Teddy is my soul-mate. He’s the one I’m meant to be with.”

Erik narrowed his eyes as he sat again, that steel-grey glare cutting through to the core of Billy’s soul. “Careful about pinning too much hope on soul mates,” was all he said. “Love is one more route to power, and you’re too easily exploited. You may not like the way things go from here.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Do you believe it to be?”

Billy let go, flung his hands up in disgust. “Screw you, and all your games. Just—screw you. I don’t need your contracts, or your money, or the life you designed for me. All I need is him.” He turned, and started to walk away. “Replace me or not; I don’t give a fuck. I’m out.”

“William!” Erik called after him. “Be careful whom you trust.”

Billy didn’t turn around.

The door opened onto an empty lobby, Erik’s assistant nowhere to be found. The door closed again behind Billy with an amazingly satisfying click.

It wasn’t until he was in the elevator, the doors sliding closed in front of him, that Billy sagged against the wall and felt the weight of everything come crashing in, crashing down.

_What have I done?_

**Billy: I think I just quit Lehnsherr Group, Inc.**

**Teddy: Went that well, hunh?**

**Billy: You have no idea.**

**Teddy: I’m on set tonight. Come meet me?**

**Billy: If I can evade the hitmen.**

At least at the end of all things, there was still him.

Him, and the doubts that Erik had planted in Billy’s mind.

_Do you think he would have been interested in you without your name?_

What was he going to do if his grandfather was right? If he’d just thrown everything away on a lie?

_The guy leaning in, his hand on Teddy’s arm. Teddy sitting on the weight bench, their heads close together._

_While the cat’s away…_

How many times did he and Teddy have to have problems before Billy accepted that there was something wrong? How many times in the past had he tried out some kind of rebellion, only to concede that his grandfather and Emma had been right all along?

No! Not this time. Billy slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, holding his head in his hands. It was hard to breathe, the air thick in his lungs. What if, what if.

He was tired. And sad. Mostly tired. That was all. He was blowing things out of proportion because he was Dramatic ™ and that was the sort of thing he did.

The dark thoughts circled again, whispering and calling to him, their claws gleaming steel.

_Failure; you sabotage everything you touch; no wonder Grand-dad’s never been proud of you; good thing you walked away before he pushed you out; it was only a matter of time before they realized you were a fraud._

_Unwanted_

_Disappointing_

_Failure_

“Shut up!” Billy yelled into the silence of the elevator, pushing himself to his feet. The lights flickered, uncaring. “Just shut the hell up. I’m not going to listen. I’m not.”

He fumbled for his phone, sent off one last text – this one to Emma. **You’re fired, or I quit. I’m getting a new manager.** Then he turned off the phone and shoved it deep in his pocket, where it, and Emma, could rot.

The door slid open and he stumbled out into the basement parkade; he was so useless he’d hit the wrong button. Couldn’t even get a simple thing like an elevator right.

“Shut up,” he whispered, the panic rising in his throat, the taste of it sharp and acrid. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this, or it would be all over the internet in seconds. _Failure Lehnsherr twin has nervous breakdown in downtown office building, news at 11_.

Fine. He wouldn’t break down. He was better than this, and he had things to do. Busy things, that wouldn’t let him dwell on the thoughts that made his chest knot up and his brain skitter sideways rather than face them head-on.

The hallway was empty, cold and white like the rest of the building, columns blocking off the messy industrial nature of parking lots from the polished perfection of the façade. Mustn’t ever let anything spoil the image. The valet was in his little booth, flipping through a book, and he sat straight up when Billy approached. He knew who Billy was; anyone who’d worked here longer than a few weeks knew his face.

Why not take advantage, the last time he’d ever be able to?

_Deep breath, Billy. Find your light._

He sauntered up to the booth, cool as could be. He was Tommy with a secret, a spy on a mission, Bond. James Bond. “The keys to the Lexus,” he said easily, as though carrying on a conversation they’d already begun. Assuming he knew, and would jump to.

“Your grandfather’s car, Mr. Lehnsherr?” The valet grinned, probably glad to show off that he knew what Billy was talking about.

“He asked me to bring it around.” Billy sat his hands easily in his pants pockets. The suit he’d put on for dinner at Soho was one of the fancy bespoke jobs that Emma had insisted he needed. He was glad for it now; it gave him the rest of the “I have a right to do this” authority that his name introduced.

“I can, if you like-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy smiled warmly, while his throat closed thick against itself. Just finish the scene. “No reason you should have to go outside.”

“Sure thing.” The valet reached over to the wall of keys and found the right one, the velvet-soft leather keyfob one of the few without some kind of fancy monogram or charm. Erik Lehnsherr didn’t need that kind of vulgar display.

“Have a good night.” The keys sat cold in Billy’s hand and he didn’t look back as he strode off across the parking lot. His grandfather’s car sat in the usual space, parked the usual way, all other cars a little further away—like they were respecting its ultimate authority.

A picture played in his head for a moment, of getting in the driver’s seat and starting it up, spinning the wheel to send the car in wild circles, smashing the rest of them down like bowling pins, or ducks at a shooting gallery. Crash through them all in one glorious explosion of sound and fury.

And just like sound and fury, resulting in absolutely nothing.

His mood plunged further, and still the prickling of tears refused to come. What was the point in crying when the world had made its final declaration? _You are unwanted. You are superfluous. There has always been someone waiting to take your place_.

Brandon for Emma, New York for Tommy, a hot trainer for Teddy, an entirely new family for his father—everyone got what they needed from him and moved on.

 _That’s not fair_ , the sane inside voice objected. _You’re supposed to trust him_.

 _Be careful whom you trust_.

Nobody trusted anyone, in his experience. It only ended badly.

It had been a long time since he’d been behind the wheel, but the car practically drove itself. He pulled out of the garage with a jaunty wave, and turned into the road.

Now where?

He could just... drive. Drive until he ran out of gas somewhere between here and Oregon, or Nevada, then get out of the car and walk. Maybe he’d end up somewhere new, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he just needed time to clear his head and figure things out, decide what his life was going to look like now that he’d burned it all to the ground and had to start over.

No, that was the kind of thinking that made him tired. His brain skittered sideways and away.

He found himself pulling up to the liquor store, for lack of any better idea. Teddy was on set, he wouldn’t be able to talk anyway, and confronting him while he was working, maybe screwing up his shoot—Billy had better set etiquette than that. He’d talk tomorrow, find out who this guy was, how long Teddy had been flirting with him, and then- and then-

“Fuck this.” He parked and went inside. Ten minutes and a bottle of brandy later—like grandfather, like grandson, apparently—Billy was back in the car and driving. The bottle was in the backseat, because he wasn’t a bad person, he just needed time to not-think, to make the world go away and leave him alone. He found himself on the road to Silver Lake, and that was good, that was fine.

Leaving the car with bottle in hand, he wandered out onto the field and sprawled in the grass. He should have been able to see the stars, the sky dark and open above him, but the lights of the city drowned out everything except the moon hanging full and sullen overhead.

There were no photographers out here, no tourists, nothing but the earth, the sky, and himself.

The ground seemed to tilt underneath him, even that consistent presence trying to buck him loose. He was entirely, utterly adrift. He had nothing inside, only a hollowness that he couldn’t think about—his brain wouldn’t let him, sidestepping the chasm and the pain that bubbled up from inside.

He screwed the cap off the bottle and took a swig, the alcohol searing fierce and sharp down his throat, much harsher than the good stuff Grand-dad bought. It burned on the way down and he welcomed it. At least it was a different pain.

Nothing left but to fill the space with something else, so he wouldn’t have to feel, wouldn’t have to think. Become one more washout child star with booze on his breath and cocaine up his nose, pretending that he was good for something. Another poor little rich kid who’d been given everything and pissed it all away.

Don’t trust anyone. Not even family. Was that the lesson the universe needed him to learn right now? “Because this is a shitty fucking way to go about it,” he complained to the sky.

And then there were the photos, the knots tied in his gut for the second time in as many months, for the same reasons.

Teddy’d had a good explanation for Sylvie, and he’d have a good one for this—and the next one? How many times before he got bored with Billy’s trust and left, made a new home for himself with Billy’s replacement? When he filled it with a happy family better than the one he left behind?

How fair was it? Billy had done what he was supposed to. He’d played the game, been the best, won the awards, been in all the newspapers and blogs. His father had to have seen it, had to know. And he’d never once called. Or e-mailed. Or tried.

There it was. The real scar ripped open and bleeding, the loneliness reaching out with steel-clawed hands to drag him into the black.

 _Never good enough to keep. No matter what I do, I will never be good enough to have been his first and only choice_.

“It’s not fair.” The words rasped out against his throat and he chased them back with another swallow, his eyes stinging with tears that even here, alone, he couldn’t make fall. “I did everything right. It’s not _fair_!”

He could lie down and die right here and the world would barely blink. His parts would get recast, Teddy would marry his hot trainer, and the world would slowly forget Billy had ever existed. Hell, there was a spare copy of his genetic code wandering around, so even for evolution he was entirely superfluous.

Easy enough; he had a bottle big enough to make it all painless. There’d be thinkpieces for a while, and then the news would turn over again and he’d be forgotten.

But when it came to opening the bottle again, twisting off the cap for a third time and putting the neck to his lips... he couldn’t do it.

His arm wouldn’t move.

He wasn’t going to do it.

Because, goddammit, more than anything, it would prove Erik and Emma right. That he was a waste of space, unable to take care of himself, or to survive without them pulling his strings. He could hear the “I told you so” chorus now, especially if he fucked it up and survived, somehow. There would be no way to hide the monumental level of this screw-up.

If he drank himself into a coma now—and the way his brain skittered away from even thinking the word ‘death’ was another sign that he really wasn’t ready—then everything he’d said and done today would have been for nothing.

If he was going to do anything at all, it had to be survive. Survive and be so fucking awesome that they regretted everything they’d done to make him angry. That they would all be forced to look at themselves, really look, and say ‘we fucked this up.’

Spite, never surrender.

Tommy moving away didn’t mean he didn’t want Billy around. He’d be back, or Billy would go to him. He could afford a goddamned plane ticket every weekend if he wanted to. He could sell the condo and move to an ashram in the mountains if he wanted to. Better yet would be to go home to his mother in Santa Monica, to reclaim the house where he’d never been allowed to really be a child.

As for Teddy... he was so beautiful that sometimes it still hurt to look at him, and he was too polite to tell someone to fuck off. And there were a thousand ways to take photographs to make it look like something else was going on when it wasn’t. If he’d actually slept with the guy, did Billy actually imagine that Erik couldn’t have gotten those photos as well?

So since he hadn’t, it meant there were no pictures to get. And Teddy deserved a chance to explain. If Teddy had heard that _Billy_ had done something stupid and believed the rumor instead of asking, Billy would be pissed—and it wasn’t like that was unheard of.

If it was true after all, if Teddy was lining up his replacement, then at least Billy would be around to know.

He was strong enough to hear it.

He’d been running and reacting for months without any kind of plan in mind, and somehow everything had combined to bring him here – without management, his grandfather furious with him, his brother moving away, everything about his future suddenly, completely, _entirely_ uncertain for the very first time.

That thought should have been terrifying.

The rush that burned through him was partly fear, but also a kind of heady anticipation. The sensation of balancing on a precipice, the ground below invisible in the fog.

 _I could do anything_.

Billy opened the bottle, and deliberately, slowly, poured the rest out into the grass. The pain and panic drained out with the gurgling brandy, and the hollow inside his chest refilled itself with calm.

“I don’t need a new manager,” he told the universe at large. “I need a therapist. And a very long vacation.”

The stars didn’t answer, but he didn’t need them to.

He pushed himself to his feet, slipping once on the wet grass and getting his knee soaked with brandy, but the evening air cleared his head. He’d barely had anything to drink, in the end; he’d be fine to drive. And Teddy was waiting.

If he left now, he still had time to get the car back before Grand-dad noticed it was missing, or at least well before he’d report it stolen.

He was busy composing a fantasy wanted ad in his head as he headed down the freeway, his hands resting easily on the wheel. _Needed: one psychoanalyst experienced in child actors, with sub-specialties in self-esteem issues, narcissistic injury, and abandonment complexes_.

It took too long to notice the car two ahead, drifting across the lanes. Billy leaned on the horn—what asshole didn’t put blinkers on?—but it didn’t change course. The car side-checked the sedan ahead of Billy, and time dilated.

The sound of grinding metal and smashing glass.

Blue sedan skidding sideways and the minivan swerving to avoid.

Pressing down on the brakes, the pedal firm beneath his foot, his hands slipping on the wheel as he tried to spin, go sideways, anything other than-

Plowing headfirst into the pile of mangled steel still moving down the freeway. Third car in the pileup, and a jolt as someone else got him from behind.

Hurtling forward, pain across his head—the darkness got its claws into him after all.

Billy slid into the black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy has a powerful anxiety attack and resorts to alcohol in an attempt to self-medicate. This leads to a moment of suicidal ideation, but he is able to pull himself out of the moment and does not follow through. 
> 
> If you want to skip references to suicide, stop reading at "There were no photographers out here, no tourists, nothing but the earth, the sky, and himself." and pick up again safely at "Tommy moving away didn’t mean he didn’t want Billy around."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Teddy gets some bad news and makes some questionable choices.

In retrospect, it was probably for the best that Teddy had let himself get complacent about the burner phone. As low-end as it was, it was still in a lot better condition than the beat-up piece of crap he’d been carrying for the last few years, and the headphone jack stayed connected without wiggling the cord every couple of seconds, so he’d gotten into the habit of bringing both to his trailer. And so far, it hadn’t been an issue.

At least not until David walked in on him texting Billy during his next break, Teddy’s real phone still sitting out on the table plain as day.

“Teddy! Good, I’m glad I caught you here. We’ve got good news. No, great news.” David stopped, the door swinging closed behind him and cutting off the noise from the studio lot. He glanced between the phone on the table and the phone in Teddy’s hands, and Teddy could see the puzzle pieces clicking into place behind David’s eyes.

He was not going to feel guilty. He was _not_. The only reason he had two phones at all was because David had broken his trust first. So it was David’s fault, and any discomfort David was feeling right now was all on him.

Mostly.

“New phone?” David tried to say casually, but it was a fucking farce, and Teddy just stared at him. _Go ahead. Try to deny the elephant in the room right now_.

“Turned out my old one was dropping calls,” Teddy replied. “And losing messages. I wanted something more reliable.”

David held still a beat longer, then shoved his hands in his pockets, file clutched under his arm. He dropped his head, breaking their locked gazes. “You knew.”

“I knew. Because?” Teddy prompted.

“Because you’re not an idiot.” David dropped down onto the low bench that ran along one wall of the trailer’s “living room,” leaning back against the wall. “If it helps, my intent was to make your life easier.”

Teddy snorted, the tug of war inside him making his stomach turn over. “Yeah, and that worked out so well. You’ve got entirely the wrong idea about Billy. We fight sometimes, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want him out of my life. Maybe at the time…” he trailed off, his heart clenching tight at the reminder of the despair he’d willingly flung himself into. “But we deserved the chance to work things out ourselves. You made the wrong call.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And you’re right. As far as your personal life goes, I was way out of line.”

“What do you mean, ‘as far as my personal life goes’? This might have started as business, but it turned personal pretty damn fast.”

That snapped David out of whatever thought he’d been sinking into, and he sat up straight. “You’re not getting it.” He tapped at the folder in his lap, his mouth set in a tight line. “We may have pulled the plug on the formal contract when you guys kicked it up a notch, but this never stopped being about politics.”

Teddy wanted to interrupt, ask questions, but David’s Intense Mode had kicked in, which meant something else was coming.

“From that day when you two first screwed around-”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“-I started hearing those rumors that people were being told to wait before looking at you. Remember? The Lehnsherr Group is powerful, Teddy. And when your relationship made Will unhappy, someone higher up got very unhappy. I didn’t catch the connection at first, but it’s there.”

That stopped Teddy in mid-thought. _How could that be? Did Billy somehow black-ball me after That Night? But that makes no sense. He thought he’d been the instigator, hell, he thought he’d all but_ raped _me. I saw his face. The guilt was killing him inside._

Somehow, all that came out was “… you’re not serious.” But David’s expression said enough.

“I’m sorry I ever agreed to get involved with them in the first place,” David was saying, shaking his head. “You’re good, Teddy. You didn’t need the boost. I should have trusted in that before trying to play the big game.”

He grimaced and looked away for a moment.

“But I’m working, things are going well. Aren’t they? They must be on-side now.”

David nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “It started to get a little better just after New Year’s, but they are weirdly, openly on-side now. I had a conversation—of sorts—with Emma Frost the first week of January, but even that doesn’t account for the scale of the turnaround. It’s actively creepy, the number of my calls that have suddenly been returned in the last hour.”

He called up something on his own phone and held it out across the aisle. “This was the latest good news. The reason I came over here from the production office myself.”

An olive branch? Teddy took it. The email that sat open was a formal one, the Marvel Studios letterhead graphic big enough to take up the full top half of the screen. He read it quickly, the words searing themselves into his eyeballs. “This is a callback.”

“For the Captain Marvel movie. It’s not a sure thing,” David warned, even as Teddy’s pulse skyrocketed and he could hear the ocean rushing hot in his ears. “There are a couple of other guys still in the running for Mar-Vell. But if you can lock this down, it’s a breakout role. Think Hemsworth.”

“He had a title character. And he had Star Trek before that.”

“He was an Australian soap opera hunk with a bit part that had all of five minutes screen time in quite possibly the worst Star Trek film of all time.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Teddy said, but he handed back David’s phone. And when their eyes met again, it was back —that tentative hope, that sense of rebuilding trust. Not fully, not yet, but the possibility. Except- “Did you say within the last hour?”

David glanced at his phone, then at the watch he wore, one of the fancy diving atomic clock things that calculated time down to the nanosecond. “Maybe closer to two? I’ve been doing triage on my inbox and voicemail since late afternoon.”

“That’s around the last time I heard from Billy. He quit working for the Lehnsherr Group. He’s supposed to be coming over.” Teddy frowned, looking at his phone and the last couple of unanswered texts. “I thought he’d be here by now.”

“Traffic was backed up to hell and back on the 110,” David answered, frowning. “He’s probably still stuck in it. Did you say he _quit_?”

“He had some huge fight with his grandfather. It sounded like there was a lot more to it than just family stuff, but now he’s not answering any texts.” Teddy frowned at his phone, and shoved it back in his pocket. “Look; everything that’s been weird lately—Sylvie, Emma threatening Billy, that asshole from Vivid, being blackballed, the trainer today who kept coming on to me. It’s all connected somehow.”

“You can’t possibly think it’s weird that someone hit on you.”

Teddy shook his head. “I looked him up, David. No-one by that name works at the Boxing Gym. Or ever has.” But he’d had the shirt, the receptionist hadn’t stopped him. He’d looked like he belonged there. Just like Sylvie, who had planted a photographer in the bushes.

Teddy might be naïve, he might be too soft-hearted or soft-headed for this business, but even he was starting to sniff out the rats in the walls.

David frowned, but Teddy had caught his interest now. “You’re thinking it was a setup. That all of those were setups?”

Teddy nodded, and for once he didn’t care how crazy he sounded. “There’s been a bigger game being played here.”

“And something happened this afternoon that changed the field.” David stood and paced a few steps, and the energy in the little trailer shifted. This was the man who had convinced Teddy that they could be a team, that he could help Teddy reach every goal he’d ever dreamt of. When David had a direction, some problem to feed to the whirling gears of his brilliance, he almost seemed to glow. All Teddy had seen the last little while was the way they butted heads.

He’d been so angry, and in the process he’d forgotten they were supposed to be on the same side. The last remnants of Teddy’s anger faded and vanished. He had better things to spend that energy on now.

“It happened too quickly for it to have anything to do with Will leaving his management. What if it was turning down the hookup,” David suggested aloud. “And shutting down the sex tape offer last week.”

“Tests? To see what kind of person I am.”

“Tests that you passed.”

“Billy would _never_.”

“It’s not him I’m wondering about.”

“Emma Frost?” Teddy frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense either. Billy’s team were the ones who arranged for us to meet in the first place. Why try and sabotage it?”

David folded his arms and frowned. “Did you say he was coming over? Give him a call and see if he’s close yet. If he’s almost here then I can wait. I have some questions I think he can answer.”

Teddy tried calling again, but this time it didn’t even ring before dropping him directly to Billy’s voice mail. “Nothing. He must have his phone off.”

“Maybe he ended up going for dinner with his grandfather after all.”

It was a plausible answer, but something about it didn’t sit right. An unsettled worry gnawed at his gut. Billy’s cryptic text, then the silence when Teddy tried to call—something was wrong. Not hitmen, obviously, but Billy had a flair for the over-the-top gesture at the best of times, and there was a lot of trouble he could get into if he felt like raising hell.

At least he could afford his own bail.

“Maybe,” Teddy agreed aloud, and set his phone aside. But the nagging feeling got stronger even as they discussed schedules and callback prep. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the clock—11:30 pm. 11:37 pm. Nothing.

11:42 pm, and a knock at his trailer door sent a wave of relief crashing over Teddy. Every muscle in his back unknotted all at once, and the tightening band of worry around his heart and lungs sprang free. He let out a deep sigh of a breath and David snorted softly.

“Come in,” Teddy called, but it wasn’t Billy at the door when it opened. The set PA gave them both an apologetic smile, clipboard tucked firmly beneath their arm.

“Sorry, Mr. Altman, Mr. Alleyne. I’ve been sent to let you know we’re releasing you for the night. There’s a problem with the electric on set and it looks like it’s not going to be fixed in the next couple of hours. Your new call is for tomorrow at seven pm.”

“Thanks,” Teddy replied automatically, his stomach turning itself upside down and tangling his throat into knots. “I appreciate it,” he added, because there was no point at all being rude to the crew. Jess nodded and jumped down off the steps, and a minute later Teddy could hear them banging at the door of the next trailer over.

His door closed, and Teddy fought the urge to dive for his phone. Where the hell was he?

“If you’re that worried, call his brother,” David gave up trying to get Teddy’s attention and tossed his tablet onto the table between them. “You may as well, since I’m not going to get any work out of you until you’ve tracked him down.”

“That’s not true,” Teddy objected. But he only lasted in the staring contest for a minute, maybe less, before he grabbed his phone and David rolled his eyes.

Kate’s number dumped him straight to voicemail and she didn’t respond to his text right away, but Tommy answered on the fourth ring.

“You can’t have my room until I actually move,” he greeted Teddy instead of saying hello, and Teddy blinked in confusion at the phone until he got himself back on track.

“I’m looking for Billy,” he started, and Tommy snorted.

“Am I my brother’s keeper?” he asked whimsically.

“No, but I thought you might know where he is,” Teddy’s patience started to wear thin. “Did he come home?”

“Don’t know,” Tommy replied, his voice muffled. “I’m in Santa Monica, Mom’s place. Did he bail on you? I thought he and The Grand High Inquisitor of Spain were making a night of it.”

“So did I, but they had some kind of fight and now Billy’s not answering his phone.”

“They were going to Soho House, and there’s a no-phone policy in the dining room.” Tommy replied with an audible shrug. “If Grand-dad hauled him off by the ear, then he won’t get your calls until he gets his phone back.” There was a pause, then he returned, slightly louder. “If you’re freaked out, call the main desk.”

“I will; thanks.”

Teddy hung up, googled, and immediately redialled, ignoring David’s facial expressions. Except that the answer he got was the one he’d been both expecting and dreading. “Erik Lehnsherr cancelled the reservation,” he said a moment later, hanging up the call. “He and Billy never made it to Soho.”

Now that caught David’s attention and he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “They could have gone somewhere else,” he suggested, but Teddy shook his head.

“I’m not buying it. I can feel it, David. Something’s wrong.” He stood and grabbed his jacket, shoved his wallet into his pocket.

“Where are you going now?”

“Billy may have turned his phone off, but I know someone who can turn it back on. And she’s a lot more likely to do it if I go and talk to her in person.”

* * *

David insisted on driving him over to Emma’s office, and the lower levels of traffic this time of night meant that they made the trip a lot faster than if he’d tried to find a cab. “She’s probably not there,” David reminded him as they strode through the lobby, his long legs helping him keep pace with Teddy’s rushed steps. “I can get her home address, but I can guarantee you she’ll be in a gated neighbourhood. We won’t get close.”

“One step at a time,” Teddy muttered. “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

“That involves having an actual plan past step one.”

David had been in the building enough times that the night security guard didn’t seem to care, just looked his name up on a list on his computer and waved the pair of them through. The elevator ride up seemed to take hours, and Teddy counted the slides of light marking each floor like a mantra. His phone stayed resolutely silent in his hand.

He hadn’t realized how much he had been counting on Emma being there until he saw the light coming from underneath her office door. He could hear the murmur of her voice from behind it—maybe she was on the phone with Billy?—but she fell silent when he knocked.

The door opened a moment later and he found himself face to face with her again, the first time in weeks. Her heels brought her almost up to his height, and her ice-blue eyes were as cool and unreadable as ever. _Never play poker with this woman._

“Mr. Altman,” she greeted him, then glanced over his shoulder. “And Mr. Alleyne. To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Billy’s gone missing,” Teddy replied, and that made her pause enough to step aside, and allow him in.

“Let’s begin with defining what you mean by ‘missing.’” Emma held the door only long enough to David to take it and then she stepped back, waited for the two of them to make themselves room within her space.

“I mean, he’s gone off the grid. He was supposed to meet me on set more than an hour ago and he never showed. He’s not answering my texts, and his phone dumps right to-” Teddy was halfway through his explanation before he realized there was someone else with them in the room.

The tall, saturnine man, his white hair perfectly coiffed and his grey suit impeccably tailored, sat with his legs crossed in the luxurious leather chair next to Emma’s desk. _Fancy Italian shoes_ , Teddy’s mind added the unnecessary details. _Really expensive watch_. He looked like his grandsons, the same sharp jaw and strong nose, but even more so around the eyes. Because there was only one person this could possibly be. And his blue versions of Tommy and Billy’s eyes were staring straight at—and into—Teddy.

“Mr. Lehnsherr,” David acknowledged him, and Erik nodded with precise courtesy.

“Right to voice mail,” Teddy finished. “Where did he go after meeting you?” If his suspicions were right, then this was the man who was doing everything he could to make Billy wary of Teddy’s motives, to break apart the relationship that his own ambition had helped create. Teddy wasn’t in the mood to play games.

What kind of reaction did he expect, from the man who had both Billy and Tommy so tied in knots? Not the raised eyebrow and dry reply that followed. “He stole my car, Mr. Altman. We presumed he was with you.”

Teddy shook his head as he tried to integrate that new information into—into anything that he knew about Billy in the first place. “He did what? That’s- Billy doesn’t even drive.”

“He can drive, his mother took him to get his license years ago,” Erik corrected him. “When he’s done with his fit of temper, he’ll bring it back.”

“Maybe not,” Emma replied, leaning over her keyboard again. She’d typed something while Teddy had been talking, and now a faint crease settled in between her eyebrows. “GPS shows the car at an impound yard off East Lanzit.”

_Billy, what have you done?_

_That_ caught Erik’s attention and he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “And the boy?”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t get any in-car feeds. Only the passive GPS is still working.”

“What about his phone?” Teddy interrupted, panic rising high in his chest. He stamped it down ruthlessly. Not here. He could freak out alone, later, once he’d seen Billy, spoken to him, knew for sure that he was okay. “I know you can turn it on remotely. Where is he?”

Erik raised a surprised eyebrow at Emma, and she lifted one shoulder in the barest indication of a shrug. Another website that he couldn’t see clearly, another round of typing, and she braced her arm on the desk, bent over to stare at the screen. Whatever she saw there gave her pause and Teddy moved so he could see it as well.

Green dots flashed up over the map and then vanished, a tracking system? Finally one appeared and stuck, the little circle pulsing as though to say ‘here I am.’

“He’s at L.A. County.”

“Jail?” David asked dryly.

“Hospital,” Teddy read off the screen. “Or at least his phone is.”

The world shrank in on itself, his circle of vision narrowed and he was floating a half-inch behind his own eyes. Numb; he needed numb right now because nothing else was helpful. Detach, function, and leave the processing for much, much later.

“What’s the fastest way to get there?” That question he directed at David.

“They won’t tell you anything.” That was Emma talking, while Erik loomed up out of his chair and strode for the door. “You’re not next of kin.” The pair of them were at the office door already, David following, Teddy still rooted to the ground, his limbs too heavy and his body very far away.

“Come along, Mr. Altman,” Erik requested in a tone of voice that made it an order, and Teddy’s feet came unstuck. As he moved, the anger boiled up inside, raw and fueled by pain so vicious that his eyes burned.

“If he’s been seriously hurt because of you,” Teddy’s voice came out steady despite the way his entire chest was shaking, “because of whatever stupid fight you had, I will make it my personal mission to take your empire down around your ears. No matter how long it takes, I will _end_ you.”

And to his shock, considering everything he’d heard and thought he knew, Erik’s expression softened, and Teddy’s pain was reflected in his eyes. “If my grandson has been seriously hurt because of me, Mr. Altman, I will hand it over to the both of you myself to do with as you please.”

Something passed between them then, in that doorway, in the space between Emma’s office and the world. Teddy knew, with a certainty that surpassed almost everything else.

_He loves Billy desperately._

_I’ll be damned._

The rest caught up with him in the next breath. 

_I just threatened one of the biggest names on the west coast. And I’m still alive._

It was all too much information to take in now, too many moving parts to sift through and try and understand. Even once he was back in David’s car, following Emma’s sleek silver car down the freeway, he couldn’t seem to focus.

“It’ll be fine. He probably got a flat tire and had to go get checked out for insurance reasons,” David reassured him, but it rang hollow. “Radio,” he said after Teddy’s silence dragged on longer than a minute. “Button three goes to the traffic reports. If anything big happened, it’ll be there.”

He couldn’t push it. Pushing the button meant information, but it also meant _information_. And then he’d know, because it would be all over the news.

But if Billy had died in a car crash, that would be all over the news; someone would have called Erik, and Teddy’s phone would have been blowing up an hour ago. Nothing like that stayed secret.

Ignoring the fear that sat ice-cold and heavy inside his gut, Teddy reached out. He pushed the button.

The radio blared to life with the usual rundown of detours and construction warnings. And they were almost at the hospital drive before it switched over to news.

“Five people were hurt this evening and one died when a car veered into oncoming traffic over on the 110 Freeway in South Los Angeles.

“It happened at 10:47 p.m. on the northbound Harbor Freeway at the 105 Freeway, said Martine Bryce of the Los Angeles Fire Department.

“Four patients were taken to hospitals...”

Teddy switched it off.

“Teddy?”

“I don’t want to hear it. Not in the car, not like this. If he’s dead, then I want a couple more minutes of not-knowing before I have to deal with it. I just need a little more time to breathe before I can’t anymore.”

It was total word-salad, not even close to getting across what he was trying to, but wonder of wonders, David seemed to understand. He pulled slickly into the driveway and nodded to the door. “I’ll go park. You stay with Emma and Erik; I’ll come find you.”

Teddy paused as he climbed out of the car, turned back to David. David, who had been beside him without question all night, even when —Teddy was absolutely sure—once everything was done, Teddy was going to get an earful about the company he was keeping. David who had warned him about the dangers, but stood by him anyway. “You’re going to have one hell of an I-told-you-so later,” he offered into the silence.

“Never.” David grabbed his hand instead and held it tight. He held Teddy’s gaze, solid and sure, though sadness sat underneath it on a level Teddy didn’t know the shape of. “Go to him,” David said.

Teddy nodded, he let go, and he closed the door behind him. The car pulled away from the curb, and he headed inside.

The disinfectant-latex-medicine smell of hospital hit him full in the face and he almost retched from the strength of it. He heard voices ahead, the hallway signs marked ER, and he raced to catch up with the others.

“My grandson- would have been brought in over an hour ago.” Erik loomed over the nurse at the desk, but she seemed utterly undaunted by his imposing presence.

“We don’t have a Lehnsherr in the system, is it possible he was taken to another hospital?”

“His phone is pinging here,” Teddy objected, skidding to a stop. The nurse glanced at him sympathetically, but only shrugged.

“Maximoff,” Erik continued, not missing a beat. “Much of his identification would be under the surname Maximoff. M-A-X-”

“Ms. Frost.” A woman’s voice cut through the rumble of conversation.

Emma looked up and a smile crossed her face, maybe one of the closest things Teddy had seen to warmth, all mixed in with the worry sitting tight around her eyes. “Dr. Temple.”

The doctor approaching them was wearing a lab coat over scrubs, but there were no blood stains or suggestions of crazy surgeries, or… though Teddy was, thankfully, not at all versed in what a doctor would look like when coming to tell a family that their grandson had died on the operating table. She was even smiling, though it was more of a quirk of the mouth than full-on giddiness. He’d take what he could get.

“You’ve got my grandson here, Dr. Temple,” Erik nodded to her and like the nurse, she didn’t flinch at the steel in his eyes.

“William? That we do.” She raised a dark eyebrow at Teddy before speaking to him directly. “He’s fine, first off, so take a breath.” She turned back to Emma and Erik, and Teddy felt himself deflate, tension and anger and—yeah, and a whole hell of a lot of fear—drain out of him all in a rush.

“For various definitions of fine, anyway. A mild concussion, some contusions, bruises, a muscle sprain. He’ll be sore for a while, but nothing that will even leave a scar on that movie-poster face.” That last line was sarcastic, aimed at Emma, as though part of some long history that Teddy was suddenly very glad he wasn’t privy to.

“What happened?” Emma asked, not bothering to respond to the dig directly.

Dr. Temple stepped aside and cocked her head, indicating for them to follow her. She stepped through a door into a quieter hallway lined with closed doors, and many fewer listening ears. “Officially? A car crash, not his fault. A driver ahead of him went into a diabetic coma and died at the wheel. He crossed three lanes of traffic, took out a minivan, and your boy plowed right into the whole mess. He’s lucky to be as unhurt as he is.”

“And unofficially?” Erik picked up on the coded line Teddy had missed.

“He was the third car in, according to the cops, too close to brake in time. But his BAC was damned close to the limit and his clothes reek of alcohol. I don’t know what he was doing tonight, but you need to snap the leash on before your grandson becomes another statistic. You only get lucky like that once.”

Emma looked like she’d sucked a lemon, but Erik only nodded and looked… contrite. “He’ll be spoken to. This is a very sensitive issue, of course, and an important time for his career-”

Temple cut him off there. “Don’t start that with me, Lehnsherr. You know damn well that HIPAA ensures his privacy.”

“Official records, of course, but nurses, paramedics, the first responders on scene. People talk. It presents a problem, especially if we’re not going to be distracted from getting William the help that he needs.”

“Mm-hm. Tell you what.” She cast a look over Teddy. “You can wait for him at the nurse’s station, kid. He’ll come by here as soon as he’s signed out. In the meantime,” she addressed the other two in the group, “step into my office, and we’ll talk. I’ve got a NICU that could use some sprucing up, and the funds keep getting reallocated.”

Erik seemed like he’d been expecting that, and he vanished around the corner with Dr. Temple. Emma, on the other hand, stayed behind.

“Just like that, he’s going to bribe a doctor?”

“Encouraging strong community relations and making sure his charitable funds are directed where the need is greatest,” Emma replied smoothly. “It’s all perfectly legitimate.”

“And what’s going to happen to anyone who saw Billy? He’s not going to get them fired, surely.”

Emma looked at him like he was an idiot child eating glue, and she the substitute teacher who hated children. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’ll be reminded of their duty towards patient privacy, and the kinds of penalties that can come from breaking confidentiality. Astoundingly, it turns out that if you pay people well, they no longer have any incentive to betray you.”

“It’s still unethical,” Teddy grumbled, the high of hearing ‘he’s fine’ taking the edge off, but the leftover remnants of his panic making the corners of his brain far too sharp and prickly.

“It’s business. However unofficial that association has become.” Emma frowned, mulling something over. She looked him up and down, from his rumpled clothes to the bitten-down thumbnail he’d been worrying at all the way here. “I don’t know if you’re aware that William fired me tonight.”

And Teddy had imagined there were no more surprises even remotely possible. “He what?”

“He quit working for his grandfather, and he fired me, though of course the contracts will all have to be formally severed. The lawyers will be getting in touch, presuming he doesn’t change his mind again tomorrow.” She fixed him with an icy blue stare and poked a finger at his chest. “He’s your problem child now; take him home and keep him _out of trouble_. And if you tell him that Mr. Lehnsherr and I were involved in getting you here tonight, I will be very, very annoyed.”

“Understood.” Teddy frowned. “No, you know what, I don’t understand. Not any of it.”

“Thankfully, you don’t need to. Only trust me that things will be better this way. For William especially.”

He stared at her and she stared back, and there was that same sensation again, the one he’d had looking into Erik’s eyes earlier. _Whatever this is, she cares. And she means well_. “Fine,” Teddy conceded, and Emma relaxed. “I won’t tell him yet. Just promise me that one day you’ll fill me in on what the hell has been going on this year.”

“Maybe. When you’re old enough.” She patted him on the cheek, turned on her stiletto heel, and vanished around the corner where Erik and Dr. Temple had gone before.

Leaving Teddy to stare the way she’d gone, eight thousand questions he’d never get the chance to ask skidding around like bumper cars inside his brain. Frankly, the more he learned about the environment Billy had grown up in, the more amazed he got that Billy was as stable and sane as he was.

David caught up to him then, touching his elbow lightly, and Teddy just about jumped out of his skin.

“Any news?”

“He’s fine. Bumps and bruises, mostly. And Erik and Emma were never here.”

David frowned, gears turning behind his eyes. “What?”

“Don’t ask, I don’t think I can even imagine an answer. Emma told me she’d explain it when I grew up.”

“Charming as ever, that one.”

“Charming as a snake,” Teddy muttered. “I bet she speaks parseltongue.”

“Mr. Altman? He’s coming out now.”

Teddy turned at the nurse’s voice, and his knees all but buckled under him. Billy was walking down the hall with one of the other nurses, and he looked like he’d been through hell.

His forehead was branded with a vivid red stripe (steering wheel, Teddy’s brain filled in), his suit was wrinkled and damp in places and the knees were filthy, his shirt was half-unbuttoned, his hair a rumpled mess and he had a brace on his left wrist. But he was alive, and on his feet, and the most beautiful thing Teddy had seen in his life. First Teddy was going to kiss him, make sure he was alright, make him swear on his life that he’d never do anything that would scare Teddy like that, ever again. And then—

Then Teddy was going to murder him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And things begin to fall into place. (meet me back here next week for the epilogue!)

“Billy!” Teddy was halfway over before he realized he was using the nickname in a very public space, but he couldn’t find it within him to care.

“You’re here!” Billy’s face lit up and when Teddy skidded to a halt he let Teddy hug him, then pat him down to check him for worse injuries. “I’m fine,” he said, an apology in his eyes. “Just tired.”

“Get rest, take Tylenol if you have any pain, and see your doctor about that wrist in a couple of days, or if the swelling gets worse. It’s not broken,” the nurse filled Teddy in, “just a mild sprain. But no tennis or baseball for a little while. And he’ll need someone staying with him for the next forty-eight hours.”

The information came fast and thick and Teddy was sure half of everything that had happened today hadn’t sunk in at all, but that part at least he could take care of. “He’s got it.”

The nurse nodded and made a mark on some kind of checklist on her board, then spoke to Billy again. “If you get a headache that comes on fast, feel disoriented or nauseated, get double vision or start throwing up, get back here right away for another evaluation.”

“Promise,” Billy said, his charming public smile on, one that faded into exhaustion when she headed off to the desk to do the paperwork.

“You’re going to need a ride home,” David offered, though he was already tapping at his tablet and looking harried.

Billy startled when he saw David and Teddy could actively see him slamming his expression down, the cool, smooth walls of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ closing in over the honesty and the trouble in his eyes.

The hallway filled with one of those pregnant, silent moments that lasted just a beat too long, tension knotting the air tight in Teddy’s chest. “Come on,” he offered. “I’ve got it, David, thank you. We can get a cab from here.”

“If you’re sure,” David looked from one to the other, then his phone buzzed at him from his other pocket. “I have some calls to make. Fires to put out.”

“A wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it,” Billy muttered, a quirk to his lip and an edge in his voice as he moved out of the way of a woman in a wheelchair, closer to Teddy’s side.

David, though—he paused, and he smiled. “Get some rest,” he advised Billy solemnly. “If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”

Billy looked at him, eyes wide for a second.

Teddy snorted a laugh, Billy dropped his head and snickered, and David looked almost pleased with himself. “I’ll call you later. Get sleep, and remember your call is for seven tomorrow.” He aimed that at Teddy then left, the hall doors swinging closed behind him.

Was that a faint thawing around the edges? Teddy could only hope. In another world, another set of circumstances, maybe David and Billy would have been friends. They weren’t that different, in some of the ways that mattered. “I told you he wasn’t all bad.”

Billy didn’t launch himself into Teddy’s arms, or even go happily when Teddy took his hand and tugged him in close. He accepted the hug for a second then broke away instead. He ran his good hand through his hair again, all jangles and elbows and nervous energy. “I may have done something without thinking it through,” Billy said, not looking Teddy in the eye.

“You? I don’t believe it.” Teddy scoffed, hoping to eke another smile out of Billy, however small. The tangled-up knot was back in the middle of his chest, throbbing painfully with every step that took Billy further away from him.

Billy didn’t smile. “This is serious. And if you want out, I don’t blame you. I’ve just completely screwed myself over, and being associated with me might be the last thing you want right now.”

“Because we both know that’s how I roll. Sit down and talk to me, Bee. How hard did you hit your head?” This time Billy let Teddy tug him over to the row of flat-cushioned chairs along the wall. Teddy pulled up his legs to sit cross-legged and face him and grabbed both of Billy’s hands, clasping them tight within his. Billy didn’t sit.

Billy’s hands were cool, and he held on like Teddy was a lifeline. Teddy brushed the pad of his thumb across Billy’s knuckle, the only comforting gesture he was being allowed to give. “I take it things didn’t go so well with your grandfather tonight.” He knew some of it, maybe more than Billy did, but wanted to hear the rest. Maybe there were more pieces that would make the rest of this insanity into a coherent picture. “Talk to me.”  

“It started off alright,” Billy sighed and met Teddy’s eyes for the first time that night. They weren’t red-rimmed, no sign of tears, but the pinched look at the corners and bags beneath told more of the story. “Apologies for not being more of a grandfather to Tommy and me, congratulating me on the Globe, and the nomination. But then-” Billy set his jaw. Now Teddy was going to hear the real story.

“He’s been screwing with us all along, Tee. He told me point blank that I was making a ‘poor alliance.’ With you. Because of how everything started, I guess.”

“And because I was going after your connections.” He really didn’t need to guess much; it was the obvious elephant in the room.

“Yeah. He told me not to trust you. That I was too easily exploited, and that he could make life difficult for me from here on in.” Billy drew in a ragged breath, like he was bracing himself for backlash, or an attack from something unseen. “I’m sure he was the one behind the thing with Sylvie’s photos. And planting the negative tabloid stories. Probably even the Vivid video guy—he golfs with one of the Hirsches. The owner’s uncle, I think.”

“Erik Lehnsherr plays golf?” Teddy got stuck on that mental image for a moment.

“That’s not the point.” Billy’s hands tightened on Teddy’s again. “The point is that I thought I was helping you, but all I’ve done is paint a big fat target on your back. Between quitting the agency and the accident tonight, the media is going to be all over me. And you.”

“I don’t think he’s going to come after us. Or me.” Teddy tried to pick his way through what he was supposed to know at this point, and what he wasn’t. “He’s your grandfather. He cares about you.”

The look on Billy’s face suggested that he had a lot of doubts about that particular subject. “He’s been gunning for us for a while, Tee. Since he realized I was serious about you. Maybe Globes night, probably earlier.”

“The thing with Sylvie was last year,” Teddy reminded him.

_But someone in the Lehnsherr Group had been ‘very unhappy’ even before then, at least according to David’s sources._

“Before, then. And if you’d gone through with any of it, taken the bait even once, I don’t doubt for a second that he’d have smeared your name all over any press outlet he could reach. Which is most of them.”

“It’s a good thing I’m an honest guy then, isn’t it?”

“The best.” Billy breathed out slowly. “And then tonight he said…” And the look of pain in his eyes went deeper than anything Teddy had seen in weeks.

“Tell me.”

“Then he said that you were only with me for the use of his name, that you were cheating with a guy at your gym, and that if I wasn’t a Lehnsherr, along with everything that entails, you’d be gone.”

“Bullshit,” Teddy said, with vehemence. None of that matched the way Erik had spoken to Teddy tonight. Why had he said it to Billy? “All of it, but especially the cheating. I would never, have never. He’s just trying to freak you out. You know what I think? I think he’s scared shitless that he can’t control you anymore. That you’ve broken out of the tiny box he tried to jam you into when you were just a little kid.”

There was so much more he could have said, might have said only a couple of hours before. But the look in Erik’s eyes when he’d heard Billy was hurt, the immediate way he’d stepped in to protect him, to make it all okay—it stayed Teddy’s tongue.

“He loves you. But I don’t think he has any idea how to deal with you as a grownup.”  

Billy’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a slow and steady breath. When he picked his head up, he looked Teddy in the eye. “Just so we’re absolutely clear. You would still love me and want to be with me, even if I was cut off from everything from now on. No more film contracts, no more party invitations or VIP seating, none of the lifestyle… stuff.”

“Duh. All it means is that you have to be my red carpet arm candy instead.” Teddy leaned in and kissed Billy on the top of his head, the only part of him not bruised or in the middle of a really good panic.

“I’m glad _you_ can joke about this,” Billy grumbled darkly. “Because when he said that, I kind of, might have gone off on him. I didn’t say ‘go fuck yourself’ _precisely_ … but I did text Emma after I left. And I fired her.”

“Okay, wow.” Teddy nodded, not about to tell him that Emma had already spilled the beans. “When you burn bridges, you break out the napalm. I’m officially impressed. Very impressed boyfriend, right here.” A distant voice in the back of Teddy’s brain was screaming at him, telling him that he should be freaking out too. But Billy was alive, so they could afford to joke. Right? “Although…” Teddy pretended to ponder, pursing his lips. “You don’t know how to cook. I think if I’m going to be supporting a kept boy, he’d definitely need to be able to cook.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Look, Bee.” Teddy tugged his hand to force him to sit down in the next chair, to put their heads at the same level. “You were in a major car accident, all right? I think I’m allowed to be relieved that you weren’t badly hurt. And this all makes so much more sense now.”

“Because I was in a car accident?”

“No, because of your grandfather. David came to set to talk to me tonight. He said that something happened today, politically. He thinks I was being blackballed for a while, but that it just stopped. Someone gave the green light again, and his phone’s been ringing off the hook.”

“A green light,” Billy repeated, his brows furrowing.

“Maybe there are people in Hollywood who don’t like the way Erik plays the game,” Teddy suggested. “Or maybe he didn’t want me riding your coattails into the Oscars. Whatever it is, I’m getting callbacks again. Good ones. It means it’s not the end of the world, alright? I’m going to be working, which means there are some producers out of his reach.

“And even if you step away from Hollywood for a while, so what? You end up doing theatre, or take a couple of years off to write screenplays and bask in the interest from your invested millions. You can afford to. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”  

Billy nodded and leaned forward, his mouth finding Teddy’s in a kiss as desperate and insistent as it was passionate. Teddy let go of Billy’s hands and buried his own hands in Billy’s hair, holding him there. They were in public, in the hallway of a hospital with all of its disinfectant odors and beeping machines, but screw it—Billy needed him, and the yearning was mutual. He tasted Billy’s lips, the faint hint of something alcoholic lingering there, then swept his tongue inside, staking his permanent claim.

Breathing ragged and fast, Billy eventually broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Teddy’s.

“I do love you, you know,” Teddy murmured, his thumbs resting on Billy’s temples, his pulse hummingbird-fast.

“Oh?” Billy sounded more surprised than he should, but then- had they ever said it? Like, really-truly? Billy had claimed that he was falling in love with Teddy, back at the hotel when they’d made love for the first time. But there had been nothing since, not the way Teddy should have been saying it all along.

“You asked me if I would still love you without your family, and I will. I do. I love you, Billy Maximoff. Will Lehnsherr. Whoever the hell you want to be. It’s not your name I want. It’s you.”

This time it was Billy who closed the space between them. He traced Teddy’s face with one fingertip, staring at him as though memorizing every feature. Billy seemed about to speak for a moment but slid his hands behind Teddy’s neck and kissed him again, harder this time, his mouth hot.

“I love you,” Billy murmured against Teddy’s mouth, his neck and shoulders absolutely rigid with nerves—or was it fear? “I do, I swear it. And things are going to change. For the better.”

Teddy had decided ages ago that the words themselves didn’t matter. People put words into both of their mouths every day, between scripts and PR stunts and carefully managed interviews… Even still, his heart throbbed with the exquisite agony of hearing _those_ words, from Billy’s lips. And knowing, despite everything, that this time it was real.

“I know. But do me a favor and lay off the booze for a while, alright? I can’t do this kind of panic again. It’s bad for my heart.”

Billy snort-laughed while their lips were still together, and it was simultaneously funny and kind of gross, which got them both laughing.

“Stop, my ribs hurt,” Billy complained, settling back into his chair. “Everything hurts, and I trashed my grandfather’s Lexus. He’s going to murder me and hide the body,” he finished mournfully. “And on top of that, I’m going to need a new manager. Freeze Factor’s signed and sealed, and thankfully there’s a brutal buy-out clause in the contract. The production won’t get rid of me, no matter what Emma or Erik say. But even if Grand-dad would take me back, I can’t trust any of them anymore. If I ever could.”

Teddy grabbed his jacket and folded it over his arm. He stood and held his hand out to help Billy up, a hand which Billy took and kept. “I may know a guy,” he suggested.

Billy hesitated, looking toward the door David had gone through only minutes before. “You’re kidding.” Then, more cautiously, when Teddy didn’t reply right away, “do we trust him now?”

“Yeah. We trust him again.”

The deeply skeptical look he got back wasn’t the best of signs, but there was time to work on him. Billy headed past him and out into the hospital waiting room, garnering looks of recognition from some of the people there. “David won’t sign me. Not after all the shit I’ve pulled.”

“You never know,” Teddy suggested, settling his arm around Billy’s waist and heading for the outside door. “I think he might surprise you.”

Billy leaned in against his shoulder, his weight a solid and reassuring thing. Because there was the proof that he was _alive_ —all Teddy’s panic and dire predictions hadn’t come to pass. The tight knot of despair began to untangle for real, and he squeezed Billy tighter rather than admit that his hands had begun to shake. Later; there would be time to deal with all of his panic and terror later, when he could lock himself in the bathroom, run the shower and, if he still needed to, cry.

“I need to call Mom,” Billy sighed, glancing back over their shoulders as the automatic doors slid open. Teddy could feel the flinch and the tightening through his shoulders, and when he followed Billy’s look he caught sight of a guy in one of the chairs hurriedly tucking away his phone. “And Tommy,” Billy continued, his voice hardening. “Before this all hits the gossip blogs.”

“Call them now,” Teddy suggested, steering Billy through the doors and out. “I’ll get us a car.” A moment to call up the app and someone was on their way.

“She’s going to want to come up.” Though he didn’t sound as annoyed by the idea as the choice of words might suggest. Fair enough; if there was ever a time when someone deserved to be mothered, this was it.

“I’ll stay with you until she gets to your place,” Teddy suggested, though the idea of walking away and leaving him — leaving them—even when he knew Billy would be alright, rankled. But who had more right to be there? His mother, or his boyfriend of all of either four months or a month and a half, depending on where you started counting? As much as he wanted to make sure Billy never left his line of sight again, it made more sense that Billy would want her there.

Teddy would only be in the way.

Billy’s arm rested on his, and he turned to face Teddy, vulnerability there in his bottomlessly dark eyes. “After that, too?” he hesitated, glanced at the window, then laid his head against Teddy’s chest. Teddy pulled him in close again and he shuddered, like something else had come undone, or been released to the void.

“Tommy’s moving,” he said after a moment. “To New York. I don’t know for how long. The condo’s going to feel pretty empty.”

“So that’s what he was talking about.” _You can’t have my room until I move._

He felt Billy’s frown against his chest, but didn’t feel in the least bit inclined to let him go to find out what his expression actually looked like. “Who?”

“Tommy. I talked to him earlier when I was trying to find you.” He needed to derail that conversation right away, before Billy started asking him for other details. And, apparently, focus on what was actually happening right now, because unless he’d hit his own head, or Billy was a lot more delirious than he’d thought, life was about to change on him. Again. “If you’re actually concerned about finances, you can always sell it. Move in with me.”

He was ninety-nine percent sure that wasn’t where the conversation was about to go, but as much as he teased Billy about sugar daddies, that was one thing he could be damned proud of—he’d made it this far without needing financial help from anyone. That hadn’t changed.

“Your place? Are you kidding?” Billy’s knee-jerk reaction was as gratifying as it was irritating. At least the accident hadn’t knocked all of the spoiled brat out of him. Teddy would have been a lot more worried about brain damage or personality change if he’d quietly agreed. “It’s just that it’s … small,” Billy tried to recover gracefully. “We’d kill each other in weeks. I was actually wondering…” and he trailed off again, before stepping back and gathering himself up, as much as he could looking like he’d just crawled out of a bar fight. “Stay for a while? Longer than a day or two, I mean.”

“You just want someone to cook for you.” It was probably a little mean to tease him, but Billy-vulnerable in public was frightening, somehow, a sign that he’d been a hell of a lot more shaken up than Teddy wanted to recognize. _Get him home, get him safe, bundle him up in blankets and hold him close until he feels like himself again._

“Please,” Billy murmured, a faint twinkle in his eye suggesting that maybe everything was going to turn out okay after all. “I have _people_ for that.”

“I bet none of them look as good wearing only an apron.”

“Probably not,” Billy conceded. While Teddy was still fighting the urge to shake him until his teeth rattled, the equally powerful need to reassure him—to hold on tight and keep Billy close—overwhelmed him.

He cupped Billy’s face in his hand, rested his palm on Billy’s cheek. Billy turned into the touch, his lips warm and dry against Teddy’s skin. “Promise me you won’t ever do something like this again.” Teddy could feel his voice cracking, the aftershocks of panic rippling back through his system. _The doorbell ringing in the middle of the afternoon, an officer in dress blues with his hat in his hand. Mom screaming, just once, the sound of death in his ears._ “I can’t lose you.”

_Not you too._

Billy slipped his hand overtop of Teddy’s, and he met Teddy’s eyes. Everything was in that look, love and passion and grief, guilt and hope wrapped up in a tangle that could take a lifetime to pick apart. “I won’t. You won’t. I swear.”

The car pulled up then, stopped beside them, and the moment —no, it didn’t shatter, but the intensity faded a little, enough for Teddy to come back to the here and now. Once they were really alone, in the condo that—yeah, that he was going to end up moving into sooner rather than later—they could pick the conversation up again.

“Come on,” he murmured quietly, dropping his hand to rest more easily at Billy’s waist. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

**Fanforum thread**

 

 **Mandy:** Guys – check the #lehnsherr tag on twitter – someone got pics of Will and Theo walking out of L.A. County Hospital tonight! It’s hard to see in the pics, but it looks like Will’s got a cast on his arm!  Am I crazy, or does it look like that to anyone else?

 

 **Cate** : I don’t think it’s a cast; if it is, it’s a small one. I wish the pics were clearer, it’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on.

 

 **Lys** : Recap for those of us stuck behind a school firewall?

 

 **Becca:** There’s three pics, all of them shitty. The first one looks like it was taken through a window, you know, with the wire inlay? Then the second one is in the ER waiting area, I think. Third one is outside. In the first pic Theo and Will are hugging, and it looks really emotional, like they just kissed, or they’re just about to? But they both look worried or sad or something.

Theo’s just in jeans and stuff, not fancy. Will’s wearing a suit and tie but he looks all beat up. There’s something that might be a bruise on his face in the third pic, anyway, but it could just be weird lighting. And yeah, he looks like he’s got a brace or a cast on his left arm.

In the second one they’re walking toward the door in a waiting room, and Theo’s got his arm around Will’s waist. Maybe like he’s holding him up? Whatever happened, Will’s all messed up – tie’s untied, and the knees of his pants are a mess, like he scraped them and bled through.

The third one is them standing beside a car in the driveway outside, maybe an Uber? Theo’s got his hand on Will’s back and he’s opening the car door for him. Will’s looking at the camera like he spotted the guy taking pictures, and he looks wrecked. Like, really exhausted. L

 **Lindassy:** Oh my God! My poor sweet baby! What do you think happened? Did he get in a fight? Or maybe there was a set accident? I hope he’s okay! Theo better be taking good care of him!!!

* * *

“Will Lehnsherr is recovering at home after a scary car crash landed him in the hospital Wednesday evening.

The 22-year-old Oscar nominee was driving on the 110 freeway near the 105 when his Lexus was in the middle of a multi-car pile-up, caused when another driver fell unconscious at the wheel.

He was alone at the time and shaken up, but not badly injured, according to US Weekly, who spoke to sources connected to the actor. He was treated and released from hospital within a few hours. All appearances he had booked this week have been cancelled, to give him time to rest.”

* * *

The hot water beat a steady pulse on Billy’s bowed shoulders and the back of his head, the tiled wall sliding cool beneath his hand. His arms trembled as he moved, his knees wanting to buckle, all of his senses on such high alert that the slick heat of Teddy’s body consumed him like an inferno.

He opened his eyes, gasped for air, tried to focus on anything other than the desperation building along his spine. Teddy’s golden hair, wet and sticking up in all directions, the raising pink bites along his back and shoulders from Billy’s mouth, and oh God – his arm moving as he stroked himself.     

Bad thing to focus on if he wanted to _not_ come in the next thirty seconds.

More sensation—letting go of Teddy’s hip to reach around and grasp the silk-steel of his cock, slick from the shower and traces of lube.

“Come on,” Teddy coaxed, tipping his head back to try and kiss Billy, sloppy and hot. He grabbed for Billy’s thigh, tugging him closer. “Fuck me.”

Billy couldn’t see his face like this, pressed up against Teddy’s back and pushing in, his fingers digging in to Teddy’s hips. But Teddy was gasping and every movement of their bodies locked him deeper, burning and tight. “God, Teddy—feels so good.”  

Teddy was so hot inside, the feel of him an electric thrill firing in the base of Billy’s spine. Because he was alive, Teddy was his, had forgiven him everything even when Billy didn’t deserve any of it. And now Billy was riding hard into the tight sheath of his body, Teddy’s strength keeping them both up. “Ái, _fuck_!” Billy cursed, gasped again, and Teddy laughed, a thick rush of joy.

The edge was right there- he hurt he was so hard, the pressure building. Just a little more-

_Teddy first._

Billy flattened his sore hand against Teddy’s chest and pinched Teddy’s nipple, worked his cock, foreskin sliding slick in his palm. Billy couldn’t stop himself, he pressed in hard, buried himself as deep as he could go, and Teddy opened for him.

He _begged_ , his head hanging forward and hands pressed against the tiled wall, fucking himself back onto Billy, forward into Billy’s fist, faster and more desperate. “Good, yes, like that—please, Billy, _please!_ ”

And then he was shaking; Billy could feel it through Teddy’s back, into his chest, and in the convulsions fluttering tight around his cock. He came, hot spurts over Billy’s hand, and a cry ripped from his throat. Billy held in place for a desperate, painful moment, stroked him tight and slow until Teddy stopped trembling. He dragged in a harsh breath, then rocked his hips back against Billy again.

Billy took that wordless invitation, sinking his fingers into Teddy’s hips and pushing into him, harder now, and faster, chasing the surge that was firing behind his eyes. Lightning pulsed through Billy’s veins, sparks flaring and dying, hot water and steam and lust all breaking over him in a desperate wave. He came and Teddy took it, kept Billy inside him, one hand tight on Billy’s thigh and the other braced on the wall.

Until Billy slid out of him, the cold air against his cock only a shock for a moment. Teddy sagged and Billy collapsed down with him until they were a tangle of legs and arms, the shower floor cold and hard against Billy’s butt.

“Thank you,” he murmured after a minute. Teddy’s head nestled on his shoulder and his lips were warm against the skin of Billy’s neck, the water washing away any evidence of their lovemaking.

“I’ve been thinking about that all day,” Teddy confessed, and Billy felt him smile. “Among other things.” Billy ran his hands along Teddy’s arms, his wonderful, talented hands, grazed his fingertips lightly over Teddy’s dick, down to half-chub now, but still warm. Teddy flinched away from the tickle, and snickered.

Billy kissed him, a press of lips and maybe a little teeth, a wordless promise. “We can check those off your list next time.”

“Or later,” Teddy suggested, grinning. A second later his grin was split by a yawn that seemed to surprise him as well. “Maybe after a nap. Assuming you’re up for it, Mr. ‘I can’t work because I’m injured.’ We’ve still got a few hours before your mom expects us back.”

“It’s a deal.” The shelf by the shower had lots of big fluffy towels stacked on it, and Billy pushed himself heavily to his feet to reach for them, while Teddy shut off the water.

They toppled into bed a few minutes later, hair wet and bodies warm, towels tossed aside in favor of the clean, cool sheets on the king-sized bed. Teddy propped his head up on his hand and smiled down at Billy. His body was relaxed, their legs tangled together and his hand resting lightly on Billy’s chest, but his eyes were pensive. “The last time we were together in this hotel, you told me you were falling in love with me. Do you remember that?”

“Believe me,” Billy replied, staring up into his blue, blue eyes. “That night is seared permanently into my memory.” He’d meant it at the time, as much as he’d been capable of, but since then—God, he’d been an idiot. And Teddy had been right. Billy hadn’t known the first thing about what love actually was. “I still mean it.”

Teddy smiled like a sunrise, slow, brilliant and warm. He dropped his head and kissed Billy on the clavicle, because he was ridiculous. “So do I,” he said after a moment.

“You love you?” Billy asked, to be difficult.

“Shut up,” Teddy grumped, lifting his head up to mock-glare at Billy. “I love _you_ , asshole.”

“Now there’s romance.”

“I’ll show you romance.” Teddy dropped his head and, just when Billy was suspecting that he might be about to go down on him- Teddy blew a very loud and very wet raspberry on Billy’s stomach.

Billy convulsed, laughing, grabbed a pillow from the mountain behind their heads and smacked Teddy in the shoulder. It turned out not to be the greatest move he’d ever made, as all his bruises and his wrist were still sore and Teddy had at least twenty pounds of muscle on him. The pillow was wrestled away and Teddy had him carefully pinned to the bed again within seconds.

His hands held above his head, Teddy’s arm keeping them – and Billy – firmly in place, Billy gave up any idea of struggling. Why would he want to, anyway? He tipped his chin up and wiggled until he could just reach, and kissed the very end of Teddy’s nose.

“I want this forever,” Billy said softly, once Teddy was settled down beside him again. “Just like this, you and me taking on the world.”

“We’ve got it, Bee.” Teddy walked his fingers along Billy’s arm, his bangs flopping low over his eyes. “It’s you and me, always, and nothing can change that.”

 “Promise?”

“’Till death do us part.” Teddy said it off-handedly, seemed to catch himself right after he stopped talking, his eyes going wide. But he didn’t retract or backpedal, the moment a delicately blown bubble hanging in the air between them.

Billy waited for the retreat, for the ‘I didn’t mean it like that’, but it never came. Cautiously, carefully, he tried to pick his words. “Are you _proposing_?”

He probably could have done better than that. Where were scriptwriters when you needed them?

Teddy frowned at him, but his hand never moved from where it rested on Billy’s arm. “Maybe,” he said calmly, and Billy’s internal freakout promptly kicked up to level eleven. “Depends how badly you want that Oscar. Engagements are good press, aren’t they?”

Goddammit.

Billy groaned, flinging a very dramatic arm over his eyes. “Fuck them. I’m not giving a single one of them the satisfaction.”

Teddy stayed silent. A moment later, Billy moved his arm and peered out at Teddy from underneath. “Are you actually serious?”

“I think so. Not about the Oscar thing, though.” Teddy caught and held Billy’s gaze, and ridiculous or not, impulsive or not, Billy knew what his answer was going to be. After all, what were his possible futures?

He and Teddy stayed dating, and eventually time, distance, the pressure of competing careers would lead to them drifting apart. (That could happen anyway, but Billy liked to think that at the very least, the time it took to untangle legal shit would be enough to buy them a second chance to make things right.)

They broke up instead and Billy re-entered the dating world, trying for the rest of his life to find someone as perfectly suited to him as Teddy was. (Possible, but highly unlikely. Where else could he ever find anyone who fit him so well? And more than that—would there ever be another guy as supportive, as understanding, as willing to see Billy through the dips as well as the rises in his career? Teddy didn’t care that Billy had probably just torpedoed his own livelihood. And Billy had been around long enough to know just how vanishingly rare that was in a city filled with raw – and often naked – ambition.)

Worse yet, break up, stay single and rattle around in his empty condo remembering the days when he used to be surrounded by people who loved him.

Or say yes, marry Teddy, and spend the rest of his life (ideally) with the man who had – in an incredibly short amount of time – become his very best friend.

_When you put it like that, it’s kind of a no-brainer._

“If you mean it,” Billy started, biting his lip. “Ask me again later, when all the dust has settled?”

_Once you’ve seen exactly what kind of loser you’re actually setting yourself up for._

Teddy only smiled, and he looped his arm around Billy’s waist, drawing him in close. “As long as you’ll say yes.”

“Are you writing my lines for me, Tee?”

“Someone has to. You’re hopeless at improv.”

“Fair.” Billy curled in and laid his head on Teddy’s chest. This was home, here. Forget the hotel room and the weird smelly soaps, the unfamiliar sheets and the sounds of the ice machine down the hall. _Teddy_ was there, they lay together skin against skin, and for once, Billy’s restless mind was entirely at peace. 

* * *

**Will Lehnsherr Signs with Prodigy**

Deadline Hollywood Exclusive:

After a literal lifetime with Lehnsherr Production Group, Inc., the management agency helmed by his grandfather, debut Golden Globe winner and Oscar nominee William Lehnsherr has signed with Prodigy Arts Management.

Lehnsherr received numerous awards for his role in the tween sitcom _Middle of Somewhere_ alongside his brother Thomas, won the Globe for Best Actor for his role in last year’s _Vere Street_ historical drama, and is currently up for an Oscar for the same part. Lehnsherr recently signed on to helm the new spy franchise _Freeze Factor_ , a modern-day adaptation of the famous Cold War era novel by the same name.

William joins partner Theo Altman, also represented by David Alleyne at Prodigy. This move to a much smaller, very new agency came as a surprise, particularly considering the crucial time of year and the upcoming Academy Awards.

Lehnsherr continues to be represented by attorney Matthew Murdock of Nelson and Murdock.

* * *

Today on Hollywood 360 – Ben and Jen – are they back together? Selena is quitting Instagram because of Justin, and Tony Burton dies at the age of seventy-eight. But first, the Hollywood gossip that no-one can stop talking about!

Screen heartthrob Will Lehnsherr has quit his grandfather’s agency and signed with his boyfriend’s management team instead! Is this the beginning of a crumbling media empire?

Lehnsherr Productions released a statement yesterday describing the change as a mutual decision, and saying that Will continues to have the full support of the Lehnsherr Group. CEO Erik Lehnsherr responded to a request for comment, saying that he ‘wishes William all the best in all his future endeavors.’

When contacted for a statement of his own, Will told Entertainment Tonight that he’s excited about entering a new phase in his life and his career. Regarding his new management, he said:

“I’ve been impressed by the creativity that Prodigy brings to problem solving-” [a loud single laugh echoes in the background of the taped interview, followed by a muffled “shhhh!”] “-and I’m looking forward to developing a solid relationship with an exciting new team.”

When asked if the split was due to conflicting visions, he replied, saying:

“The Lehnsherr Group– it’s not an agency to me, they’re my family. And frankly it’s easier to love people when you’re not working with them all the time.”   

What’s next for Will?

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

* * *

_Bill Maximoff; leave a message._ **[beep]**

“Mr. Maximoff, this is a call to confirm your intake appointment with Doctor Leonard Samson, for Monday at two pm. We have a regular open slot on Wednesday afternoons at three, beginning March ninth. You can book that or a time that better suits your schedule when you come in to the office.

“Please note that appointment times must be changed or cancelled at least 24 hours in advance, or you will be billed for the full amount. Thank you!”

 

“Talk therapy. Ugh.”

“You’re good at talking, and he’s paid to listen. It’ll be fine.”

* * *

**New Kid on the Block!**

Will Lehnsherr’s agency switch seems to have left a void at Lehnsherr Productions, because sources tell _People_ that LGP is pulling together a new team—this time for the third and youngest  Lehnsherr grandchild.

Sixteen year old Luna Amaquelin, only child of notable director Pietro Lehnsherr and his ex-wife, television producer Crystal Amaquelin, has been using her mother’s maiden name until now—perhaps as an extra layer of protection against the media. Unlike her famous cousins, Will and Tom, she was kept completely out of the public eye during what seems to have been a relatively idyllic childhood in Hidden Hills. Only now that she’s hit her late teens, it appears that little Luna is looking to spread her wings.

She first popped up on Instagram and Twitter a few weeks ago, immediately grabbing large numbers of followers from friends Kate Bishop and Cass Lang’s social media readerships. Since then Luna’s been seen having dinner with famous grandfather Erik Lehnsherr, as well as out and about on the town with both her mother, and aunt Wanda Lehnsherr—herself a former soap opera starlet.

Sources say that Luna has her eye on television, and is starting to build her public profile well in advance of the usual casting calls for pilot season. With this powerhouse family behind her, we have a feeling she’s not going to have to do too many auditions before someone snaps this girl up. 

* * *

**Twitter DM: Karolina Dean**

Remember: after-after party @ my place, win or lose! Chase is bringing the beer & Xavin’s already setting up the karaoke machine. [emoji]

**Kate: Have the best time ever, guys. I’ll see you at Karo and Xav’s! <3**

**Teddy Altman- > Group Chat (Eli, Nate): **Meet up with us @ an afterparty tomorrow night? It’s going to be a blast. 2 am, I’ll send you the address & copies of the invitation so you can get past security.

* * *

**RED CARPET COUPLES 2016: JOHN LEGEND, CHRISSY TEIGEN AND MORE**

 

The ten hottest couples on the Red Carpet from the 2016 Oscars!

[image of Billy and Teddy in tuxedos, looking very dapper. Billy’s suit is super-high end James-Bond-slick classic cut black tuxedo, with a dark green pocket square. Teddy’s earrings are in and he’s wearing a dark green tuxedo-cut suit with black lapels and accents, his hair artfully shaggy.]

**Caption: Actor in a Leading Role Nominee Will Lehnsherr and partner Theo Altman arrive on the Oscars red carpet for the 88th Academy Awards. Will is wearing Armani, and Theo is in a neo-classic by designer Tom Ford.**

Check out Will’s matching pocket square! Somehow these two incredible hotties manage to skirt the edge of the high school prom look without looking stupid. We love the way they’ve been embracing the most cheeseball gestures of affection, while still keeping on this side of cool. Teach us your ways!

 

 **> BrandyBoss: ** It’s because their looks are so different. Stops them from looking like wedding ushers. I want their stylist!

**> Digital Spook: ** Will and Theo.   


   

 

 **> BeMyDaddy: ** Anyone else checking them over for signs of more #limobanging ? Hahaha maybe just me.

* * *

 

****

 

**WillandTheo4eva** @twinsfan_omg

Oscar night campaign time! Get #limobanging trending again! Boyz are soooo hot. So happy 2 see them 2gethr! #willandtheo #wherestom

59 Retweets

847 likes

 

**-**

**WillandTheo4eva** @twinsfan_omg

#wherestom #middleofsomewhere #tomlehnsherr

Retweeted:

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

Looking good, twerps. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… in public. #oscarsgonewild

2167 Retweets

4645 likes

 

- 

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

When the hell did the ‘Middle of Somewhere’ fanclub find my Other Twitter? Hey there, ladies.

<http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/gallery/yes/zack_wink.gif>

5167 Retweets

8745 likes

 

**Luna Amaquelin** **(official) @lunaamaquelin**

Sending all my love out to Will @nottheeviltwin tonight – you’re making the whole family proud! xoxo

 

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

And another one bites the dust. #marketingdepartmentfail #leavethekidalone

* * *

**Blogging Hollywood, Oscars Special!**

The interminable awards show is over for another year, the results are in, the gossip is as boring as the monologues, and the red carpet was another solid line of the usual designers pulling out the good, the bad, and the just plain weird.

One thing that might have made the show more interesting this year – the major upset that was expected for the Actor in a Leading Role award – didn’t happen. On the one hand, we’re happy that Leo finally managed to take home the Oscar statuette. On the other hand, here at the office we were all hoping to see the gritted-teeth meltdown that would have surely ensued if he’d lost —again —and this time to Oscars first-timer Will Lehnsherr.

Congrats, Leo, and tough luck, Will. Hopefully you’ll get yours without sitting through another ten nominations!

Lehnsherr didn’t seem to mind too much, if his enthusiastic applause for DiCaprio was any indication. He and partner Theo Altman spent hours circulating at the Vanity Fair after party, and finished the night with friends at a private do. No limousine shenanigans this time either, much to the disappointment of most of our graphics department.

[gif inserted: Tyra Banks shouting: I was rooting for you! We were all rooting for you and how dare you?]

What’s next for our favorite members of Young Hollywood? We’ll catch up with Will at the GLAAD Awards, where he’s just been named as a presenter, and find out more about the new spy thriller franchise he starts shooting in April.

Theo is entering post-production for _Evolution Ink_ , the indie film that will be his big-screen debut at Cannes, and pre-production’s rolling for the new blockbuster retelling of the King Arthur story, where Theo will be playing Sir Galahad. Dare we hope to see a matching butt-shot from him any time soon?

See you at Cannes, boys! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I picked the King Arthur movie long before I had any idea there actually was going to be one -- it was intended to be a callout to my Crusades AU. Alas! Reality caught up with me and now Teddy is indelibly linked with Guy Ritchie's bro-fest. And so it goes...


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end, but not the end. A beginning. And a happily-ever-after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Cris, and for you. Thank you guys, so, so much. 
> 
> As mentioned in my first set of notes, this is an open universe. Anyone who wants to do fanworks in this setting is more than welcome. Just let me know where it's posted, so that I can link and squeal and shriek and die. <3 (There are some things I've established about the twins' sitcom and earlier career that didn't necessarily make it on to the page explicitly, and I'm happy to share if anyone wants the notes for something.)

The luxuriously appointed screening room was an affectation, but one that the owner of the house used frequently enough to justify. Not that there was anyone that it particularly required justifying _to_ , but habits, once made, died hard.

Movement flickered on the large television mounted on the wall over the fireplace—beautiful people, fancy clothes, the scenery of Cannes making for a spectacular, albeit familiar, backdrop for the action taking place. A particular pair moved into view, their suits not nearly as high-end as those they’d worn for the Oscars, but their faces shining with the kind of happiness that could only come from some soul-deep satisfaction. Part of that was surely due to the appearance of something new—matching gold rings sitting on their left hands.

_Surely not yet._

The watcher on the leather couch raised the volume and listened more intently. The door to the room opened and closed behind him, and he noticed but did not acknowledge the sound.

“This is Alison Blair, live at Cannes, right now with Theo Altman, one of the stars of _Evolution Ink._ Theo! You’ve made it to the festival, you’re standing here at the premiere for your first film, how do you feel?”

“Amazing. I wish I had a better word to describe it, but all I can say is, this feels amazing. I’m so lucky to be here today, and to work with this cast and crew, and I hope that everyone sees the depth of the passion that’s been poured into this film. It’ll knock your socks off.”

“Tell us something, Theo—everyone’s buzzing about the rings. Is this an official announcement? Did you two elope after the Oscars?”

“No! Believe me, no. My mom would kill me. Will’s mom would kill _him._ It’s not worth it.”

[He turns aside to speak to Will, standing beside him, but the mic catches some of their discussion. “Can I?” “Go for it.”]

“We’re engaged, I can tell you that. Don’t ask about the wedding, though—we’re keeping the details private.”

“You mean you haven’t planned anything yet.”

[Theo and Will both laugh]

“Something like that. It’s been a busy spring.”

“Now according to your reps, you two only started dating this past fall.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you think you might be moving too fast? Or what some are saying, that you’re too young to be getting married?”

[Theo laughs again, more self-consciously, and Will’s cheeks flush faintly pink]

“I don’t think so. When you find the right person, you know.”

“What do you say to rumors that this started as a sham relationship?”

“Marrying someone is taking a faux-mance situation a bit too far, don’t you think?”

[Tom Cruise crosses behind Theo in the background, and the camera follows him for a moment before snapping back to frame Theo and Will once more.]

[Will leans in to make sure his voice is being picked up by Theo’s mic; his eyes are alight with mischief.] “There’s nothing sham about this. I said right from the start I knew he was the one, and that’s on tape.”

[Theo blinks, turns to him and frowns. ] “… when did you say _that_ on the record?”

“Ellen show. You saw it.”

“I didn’t watch it, no.”

“You didn’t?” [Will looks confused.]

[Alison stands back, seemingly amused, and watches the discussion unfold.]

“No. I was mad at you that day. I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

“But that’s when you forgave me, isn’t it? When I sucked up on live TV.”

[Theo looks confused.] “… no, I forgave you when you sent the roses.”

[Will now looks even more confused, were such a thing possible.] “I didn’t send any roses.”

“Then who did?”

“Someone sent _you_ roses? You sent _me_ roses.”

[Alison is covering her mouth with her hand to prevent her delighted giggles from being picked up by her mic. A couple of others have stopped to watch the discussion taking place.]

[Theo turns to Alison and detaches his mic, handing it back, his smile bemused.] “Could you give us a minute, please?”

[Theo and Will step aside to allow others to take their place at the interview kiosk. They’re talking earnestly, laughing and gesturing as they move into the background of the shot.]

 

Erik turned down the volume and glanced sideways at the woman who settled down on the opposite end of his leather couch. A cool white vision in the dimness of the screening room, Emma returned his look with a smile that drifted from indulgent to vaguely unsettled.

“They make a handsome couple, don’t you think?” Erik began the conversation on his own terms. Emma was there to chide him, certainly, but that didn’t mean he had to give her an easy opening.

“Did I ever tell you about my great-grandmother, Sarah Gittel?” he arched an eyebrow at Emma and she shook her head. “She was a matchmaker in the _shtetl_. A very successful one at that. I like to think I inherited her eye.” Theodore and William were holding hands again in the crowd, and he steepled his fingers, watched them for a moment longer. “Though I’ll admit, for a while there I thought William would never take the bait. He gets _that_ particular stubbornness from his grandmother.”

Emma frowned, crossing her legs and tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the arm of the couch. “Erik, for once and for all. _Did_ you set up the Lushton girl?”

He shook his head. “No; that was entirely her own game, and one I hadn’t anticipated. Needless to say, _her_ management will not be receiving any roses from me.” One of the interchangable Kardashians wandered by on the television screen, and he muted it completely.

“Those were an inspired touch.” She did smile for a moment, seemingly amused, though it disappeared and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Vivid’s offer, then, and the boy at the gym.”

Erik nodded, gesturing with the hand that held the glass. “Those were mine, I’ll admit that.” He drank, the brandy lingering on his tongue. Emma was pressing her lips together at him, and even though he was in no way beholden to her, he felt the urge to explain. “Do you know, I had actually begun to second-guess myself after those photographs came out? And then there was that little stunt the boys pulled at the Globes.”

He frowned, some of that remembered frustration lingering. “It was important to ensure young Theodore really did have the strong moral code that he’d been praised for. And to discover whether William was as thoroughly committed as he believed himself to be. One cannot be too careful when family is at stake.” 

She didn’t answer, except for a soft noise in her throat that sounded like disapproval. _For heaven’s sake, woman._ The lack of confidence his people had in him on occasion was truly unjustified. Mostly unjustified. There had been a few minor mis-steps along the way this time, but it had all worked out for the best.

Erik glanced at her. “You disapprove of my methods.”

The tapping of her fingernails slowed, then stopped. “Even setting aside William’s tantrums, and the car crash,” she said in a tone of voice which strongly suggested she was not leaving those things aside, even for a moment’s respite. “There were a lot of wild cards in play. Some of the things he did – it took a lot of work to keep him heading in the right direction, Erik. I ended up burning a bridge I would rather not have.”

“He’ll come around, Emma.”

“You say that now. I helped raise those boys, and I don’t like being forced to play the villain.”

“But you do it so well,” he soothed.

Emma actually growled at him, and for a moment he thought perhaps he—even he—had gone too far. She was utterly inscrutable at times. “Go soak your head, old man.”

He chuckled, and she shook her head at him. “Sometimes a bird has to be pushed out of the nest for his own good, my dear. William was entirely too comfortable with the status quo, and it was making him miserable. What do you imagine he would have done if we’d simply told him, ‘stop leaning on us so much, find a partner who truly cares for you, and grow up,’ hmm? He’d have regressed _and_ sulked for months. Now look at him.” Erik gestured toward the screen and Emma did turn to follow his gaze this time. “He’s hungry again. He’s _confident_ again. It’s very good to see.”

The _humph_ sound that came from Emma suggested that she didn’t entirely share his enthusiasm, but she didn’t know the Maximoff bloodline as well as he did. There were things that came with being family that outsiders simply couldn’t understand.

“How long will you let them hang?” she asked, proving his point. 

“I fully intend to be on the invitation list for the wedding, so I won’t let it rest too much longer. I’ll call tomorrow,” he decided aloud, “and—grudgingly, of course—congratulate Theodore on his premiere and what are bound to be exceptional reviews. He’s very good, you know. Then…” he pondered for a moment. “Give it another week, no more than two, before inviting them to a highly awkward dinner. La Scala or someplace similarly gauche. A delightfully public reconciliation, the old man acknowledging his mistakes, asking for forgiveness, and so on and so forth. The vultures in the popular press will love it,” he added, with a certain amount of exasperation.

Emma sat silently for a moment, watching Miss Blair sign off the end of her broadcast. William and Theodore entered the theatre, still holding hands. “Look at them; they’re so happy. Do you think you and Charles would ever-”

He cut her off with a shake of his head before she could finish her question. Not because he was hiding anything—not from Emma, certainly—but because there were some things that simply didn’t need to be over-examined. “It’s a different world now. Charles and I will keep on as we always have, and let the younger generation have their fun. Now,” he changed subjects, anticipation growing at the thought of the task still ahead of him. “Regarding  _Thomas_ …”

* * *

****

**Fanforum thread:Cannes Interview: ENGAGED!**

**Becca:**

quote from a previous thread:

Blind item: This _super_ -boyfriend recently pulled out all the stops for an evening of romance at the Hollywood Roosevelt. He and his actor beau from a famous Hollywood family have been dating for less than a year, but it looks like things are already heating up.

Blind Gossip reported last fall that this match started as a PR relationship, and their dramatic reduction in public appearances following the Oscars suggested that the contract was winding down. But now sources say not so fast!  

About the night in question:

_“[Boyfriend] called to book the rooftop garden for a private party – table for two, candles and roses, and put in a special order for a very nice bottle of champagne._

_“He and his guy stayed up there until closing, then went straight to one of the penthouse suites. They were all over each other when they checked out the next morning, and they were both wearing new rings.”_

Nothing’s been confirmed yet from either team. Beau and Boyfriend have been quiet on social media over the last few weeks, but sources say that they’re focusing on work—and that Boyfriend recently moved in with Beau, keeping the change in residence on the down-low! If that’s true, then the ‘publicity’ part of the whole ‘PR’ arrangement is oddly missing.

Could these contract lovers have transitioned from fake to real? Was this an elaborate proposal—or a secret wedding? Stay tuned, gossips!

#Actor, Engagement, LBGT

 

So they _did_ get engaged that night! Think about it – champagne, private dinner in a rooftop garden, candlelight and romance… I’d seriously _die_ if anyone did something that sweet for me.

I wonder which one of them actually proposed?

 

 **Cate:** The Roosevelt – isn’t there where they were in the first pics that came out last year? Right at the beginning. There were pap shots of them talking outside. If that’s the case, that’s so adorable – proposing at the same place they had their first date! Will is such a romantic.

 

 **Mandy:** You’ve got it backwards – the blind item said that it was _Boyfriend_ who set up the evening, and _Beau_ who’s from the famous family—meaning that Theo set it all up, to propose to Will.

(Oh my God, have you seen the meltdowns on the LehnSharpe board? They’re having epic tantrums over there. Bring popcorn.)

 

 **Lindassy:** Look at the Cannes interview again! I stg, guys. smh. Theo asked _Will_ if it was okay to announce it on camera. If he was the one who proposed, why would he need to ask? Anyway, we all know who the guy is in their relationship. Will’s got more money and he’s a lot more famous than Theo would ever be without him, which means he’s definitely got the upper hand. He proposed.

 

 **Alona:** Wow, your relationships must suck. Who says there has to be a power imbalance in any direction? I think they equal out —Will’s A-list, but Theo’s hotter. And he’s the one with a college degree, so you know he’s probably smarter, too.

But we’re missing the real story here – what is up with that conversation about the roses? Did you get any of that? Does anyone know what they’re talking about?

 

 **Kyra:** Are you saying people who don’t go to college aren’t _smart_?

 

 **Mandy:** (Duck and cover, girls. This is going to be a long thread. [drinking gif / popcorn gif])

* * *

**Will Lehnsherr (official) @nottheeviltwin**

For those who didn't catch the Cannes interview - it's true! He proposed and I said yes. Still can’t believe this is my life. #newbeginnings

* * *

-

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

@theeviltwin – don’t even think about it.

-

 

**Tom Lehnsherr (official) @theeviltwin**

Congrats to @nottheeviltwin and @somecallmetheo. I can’t think of two idiots who deserve each other more. #loseabuddy #addabrother

-

**Tom Lehnsherr (official) @theeviltwin**

@djtommymax Sorry, man. You know how it goes. #hatethegame #nottheplayers

 

**Tommy Max @djtommymax**

@theeviltwin Start counting the days until I own you.  

 

**Tom Lehnsherr (official) @theeviltwin**

@djtommymax 1.

* * *

“Why do they call it a green room when the walls are never green?” Teddy was in the ‘nervous babbling’ stage of waiting, and didn’t expect an answer. The handful of other people in the room – some of whom he knew, some he didn’t – were more engrossed in crossword puzzles, raiding the buffet, or their own quiet conversations than in listening to his existential muttering. He picked at the stitching in the arm of the fake leather couch, tipped his head and stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room, the weird white stucco surface not talking back to him either.

The door swung open and he almost jumped to his feet, but it was Billy coming back in, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He made a beeline for Teddy, dropping onto the couch to sit beside him. “Tommy and Kate are going to meet us after the panel. She knows some new fusion restaurant we apparently have to try.”

“Is this like the place with the ramen hamburgers? Or more like the time she tried to convince us that bubble bath was food? Because the burgers were weird-but-good, but protein diet or not, foam is not a meal.”

“She didn’t say. But if it sucks, we can always find something else afterward.”

Teddy frowned. “What’s going on with them now, anyway? Are they back on?”

But Billy only sighed with the kind of soul-deep exasperation that suggested more than it explained. “I don’t think _they_ know.”

Teddy’s phone blooped and he tugged it out of his pocket just long enough to note the five-minute warning, turn it off and shove it back in. “This is really happening, right?” he asked that one quietly, the kind of newbie question that might make his new-future-how is this my life-costars think less of him. “I swear, I’m more cooled out about this than I was about Cannes.”

Billy laughed, so full of warmth and affection that the nervous tangle in the middle of Teddy’s gut dissolved away. “Nerd.”

Teddy snorted. “My secret’s out.”

“Long time ago.” Billy curled his fingers into Teddy’s palm, nesting their hands together. “And there’s nothing you need to worry about. You’re perfect for the role, pre-production has been going really well so far, you’ve had more media training in the past four months than I think I have in my entire life, and the fans will love you. You’ve seen all the jokes about Marvel breeding actors in tanks, right? You were _made_ to play Mar-Vell.”

“I was made in a tank?” Teddy joked, the tension easing even as the rest of the _Captain Marvel_ cast started checking the time and packing up their shit. “Better not tell my mom.”

“Made _like_ a tank, maybe-”

A woman wearing a headset and a Captain America t-shirt stuck her head in the door. “Two minutes, everyone!”  

“Thank you!”

Teddy stood and tugged his shirt into place, and Billy fussed over him, picking away an invisible bit of lint and tidying Teddy’s hair. Tipping his chin up, he leaned in and lingered against Teddy’s lips for a moment, a sweet slow promise as familiar now as Teddy’s own heartbeat.

“Come on, boys,” a voice called from behind, laughter in it. “Break it up.”

“New love,” someone snorted from the other side of the room.

Billy only grinned. “Knock ‘em dead.”

And then Teddy was swept up into the chaos – a fistbump from Brie, a half-pitying pat on the shoulder from Chris, the blood starting to race in his ears. And always, even as they moved in a bumping, teasing herd through to the backstage, being aware of Billy – off to one side, not interfering, but _there_ nevertheless. Solid.

So when he stood in the wings, watching Brie and the already-announced cast take their seats on stage, a few chairs open and waiting, ( _mine is number three, go in from stage right, avoid the speaker cords_ ), the fear was entirely gone.

And five minutes in, when the cheering had settled down – he checked the house cameras to see the room on the stage manager’s little bank of monitors, and holy crap. Not just standing-room-only, but spilling out into the aisles, and heads poking in through the back door of the massive ballroom—when the cheering had settled down and the presentation began, the rush of anticipation took over.

All of it paled, though, narrowed to a tunnel when the studio head Q&A was mostly over, and the projection screen shifted – the NYCC logo vanishing to be replaced with the studio logo, and then finally – finally – he heard the sound of his own name.

“Are you guys ready to meet some of the new kids? Carol’s got her Jess, we’ve got Monica Rambeau, now get ready to meet our Mar-Vell – Theo Altman!”

Teddy jogged out onto the stage and the lights hit him, as always – but not stage lights, not the bulk of them. It was camera flashes now, hundreds of phones held up to capture his every twitch and grin, and the cheers that rose up now—in this moment—were all for him.

And when Nicole patted the chair beside hers and he slid in behind his official nametag, it was the piece of a puzzle finally clicking into place. Teddy picked it up, checked it, the block letters marching across there, black on white. “Had to check and make sure they didn’t call the wrong guy out here by accident,” he teased, his mic switching on. “The whole thing still feels like a dream.”

“Just wait until we hit boot camp; then we’re talking nightmare.”

The crowd laughed at the interjection, and all of the fear that had kept Teddy awake all night was gone, washed away in the swell of their approval.

_I earned this. I belong here._

* * *

**All the news from New York Comic Con!**

The Marvel panel opened with a massive slate of announcements about upcoming projects… chief among them was meeting the main cast of the _Captain Marvel_ movie, currently slated to start filming in early 2017! Fan fave Theo Altman has been announced as the newest MCU recruit, and we’re already loving his easy, confident style.

Check out some of the best moments from the panel:

 

[[Russo brothers interview, talking about plans for the next few MCU movies]]

 

[[Little kid in full Ms Marvel cosplay getting to come up and shake Brie’s hand]]

 

[[Panning shot across the table with various MCU actors in their chairs. They’re discussing the casting process. Teddy is seated beside Nicole Beharie, and leans in to the mic. “By the third callback I was ready to change my name to ‘Chris’ to see if it would improve my chances.”

[crowd roars with laughter]

“My agent talked me out of that one.”]]

 

[[Fan cell phone video, unsteady and a bit grainy. The audio is almost entirely obscured by the voices of the crowd and the Q&A happening on stage. The camera is focused on the stage, but most of what’s in frame are the back of people’s heads, and the edge of a very large Groot costume.

The camera whips around and we see the edge of a door opening in the wall next to the person filming the video – it’s an emergency exit of some kind, and Will slips in quietly. A gasp can be heard near the phone’s microphone, and the video wobbles. “It’s _Will Lehnsherr._ ” “Sshhh!”

Will doesn’t seem to notice that he’s being filmed. He leans against the wall, as inconspicuous in his jeans and Scarlet Witch t-shirt as he can be in a crowd of similar nerds, and watches the panel with a wide, goofy smile on his face. He’s absolutely glowing with pride, and is wearing a gold ring on his left hand. He also looks years younger and much better rested than in the paparazzi videos from the spring.]]

[[An audience member comes to the microphone, addresses her question to Theo. “Congratulations on getting engaged,” she giggles.

Theo leans into his mic, and smiles graciously. “Thank you.”

“Is Will here at the convention with you?”

Theo laughs. His eyes flick to somewhere over to the side of the hall, but then he looks back and smiles. “Are you kidding? He’s backstage, and I think he’s more excited about this gig than I am. If that’s even possible.”

[Theo leans in, with a stage whisper] “Someone cast him in something with superheroes. He’s making me crazy.”]]

* * *

**Entertainment News:** Watch Brie Larson and Theo Altman in the First Trailer for Marvel’s _Captain Marvel_

 

**5 Things You Need to Know About Theo Altman – and #1 is about those famous jeans.**

 

**The Brat Pack Partied for Victims of Crime**

On Wednesday night, Kate Bishop, 24, the daughter of real estate mogul Derek Bishop and his first wife Eleanor, hosted a party at Long Beach’s Club Sevilla as a fundraiser for Haven Hills. DJ Tommy Max, Ms. Bishop’s frequent escort, spun tracks for the dance floor, and notable guests included his brother Will Lehnsherr, actor Theo Altman, and couture designer Nico Minoru. The party went all night, and the celeb-studded event raised over $500,000 for victims of domestic abuse.

 

 **New Beginnings** : Will Lehnsherr dishes on leaving the family firm, filming a new franchise, and why he’s more excited about his marriage than his wedding.

**Will and Theo Make it Legal!**

_Wednesday January 25, 2017_

Actors Will Lehnsherr and Theo Altman tied the knot last Sunday in an intimate ceremony in New York. Sources close to the couple say the city was chosen to be close to Theo’s mother’s home, and the 620 Loft & Garden on 5th Avenue made the perfect venue. The service was a combination of traditions, drawing on both Theo’s Episcopalian background and Will’s mixed Jewish and Romani heritage, and was followed by dinner and dancing.  

Everything about the wedding was kept strictly hush-hush until the day after, when pictures from the couple’s friends started to show up on Instagram and Facebook. We’re loving the subdued color scheme, the spectacular views of 5th Avenue and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and the elegance of the heated garden tent. Official pictures have just been released, and we’ve seen enough to know just how good the guys looked in their tuxedos, custom made by Italian tailor Duca Sartoria.

The cozy loft was the perfect size for the hundred close friends and family members in attendance. Notable guests included producer Erik Lehnsherr, educator and philanthropist Charles Xavier, actress Karolina Dean—who played Will’s on-screen love interest in _Middle of Somewhere—_ and socialite Katherine Bishop. Will’s brother Thomas and Elijah Bradley, a close friend of Theo’s, acted as best men and witnesses.

The couple’s management team say that Will and Theo are off on their honeymoon for the next couple of weeks, and Will popped on Twitter just long enough to leave a message to his fans.

“Flying over the rainbow with the best guy in the world. Need to get used to ‘husband’ now. #neverimaginedthis #2good2btrue #thanksforthelove”

Which he followed up with something much more cryptic. Could it be directed at his former manager?

“Never did say a good enough thank you. For everything, but especially this. Never too late? #pax #angryextramom”

Whatever the meaning behind the public-private communiqué, and despite the dire predictions that surfaced when Will switched management teams last year, we’re looking forward to great things in the happy couple’s future. They’ve got five films in pre-, post and regular production between them, and there are rumors that Prodigy Arts Management has been asking behind-the-scenes questions about production companies. Whatever these two cuties turn their hands to next, we’re sure it’s going to be amazing.

Stay tuned in 2018 for Will’s turn at Nightwing in the next installment of the _Batman_ franchise, and catch Theo in _Avengers: Secret Invasion_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original notes had Katee Sackhoff as Carol, before the casting came out. Sigh. Also featuring Nicole Beharie as my dream cast for Monica Rambeau, because if I were writing the Captain Marvel movie, it would be all Carol, Jess and Monica, all the time. Also, all of the movie announcements are entirely made up. My own wishful thinking. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's come along on this journey with me. Your comments have been the highlight of my weeks, and I love you all. Come play with me on tumblr! [ardatli.tumblr.com](http://ardatli.tumblr.com).


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